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EARLY REVIEWS 



ENGLISH POETS 



EARLY REVIEWS 



OF 



ENGLISH POETS 



EDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION 



JOHN LOyiS hanky; Ph.D. 

Assistant Professor of English and History, Central High School, Philadel- 
phia ; Research Ftllovj in English, University of Pennsylvania 



^^^ 



PHILADELPHIA 

THE EGERTON PRESS 

1904 



X 



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LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
T«vo Copies Received 

APH 7 1904 

Copi'fijfht Entry 
CLASS a. XXc. No. 

S T if a -] 

COPY B / 



COPYRIOHT, 1904 

By JOHN LOUIS HANEY 



Pbcss of 

The New Era Priniihg Company, 

Lancaster, Pa. 



TO 

MY FRIEND AND TEACHER 

PROFESSOR FELIX E. SCHELLING 

OF THE UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA 



PREFACE 

" Among the amusing and instructive books that remain 
to be written, one of the most piquant would be a history 
of the criticism with which the most celebrated literary 
productions have been greeted on their first appearance 
before the world." It is quite possible that when Dr. 
William Matthews began his essay on Curiosities of Crit- 
icism with these words, he failed to grasp the full signifi- 
cance of that future undertaking. Mr. Churton Collins 
recently declared that " a very amusing and edifying 
record might be compiled partly out of a selection of the 
various verdicts passed contemporaneously by reviews on 
particular works, and partly out of comparisons of the sub- 
sequent fortunes of works with their fortunes while sub- 
mitted to this censorship." Both critics recognize the fact 
that such a volume would be entertaining and instructive ; 
but, from another point of view, it would also be a some- 
what doleful book. Even a reader of meagre imagination 
and rude sensibilities could not peruse such a volume 
without picturing in his mind the anguish and the heart- 
ache which those bitter and often vicious attacks inflicted 
upon the unfortunate victims whose works were being 
assailed. 

Authors (particularly sensitive poets) have been at all 
times the sport and plaything of the critics. Mrs. Oli- 
phant, in her Literary History of England, said with much 
truth : " There are few things so amusing as to read a 
really ' slashing article ' — except perhaps to write it. It 
is infinitely easier and gayer work than a well-weighed 
and serious criticism, and will always be more popular. 
The lively and brilliant examples of the art which dwell 



viii PREFACE 

in the mind of the reader are invariably of this class." 
Thus it happens that we remember the witty onslaughts 
of the reviewers, and often ignore the fact that certain 
witticisms drove Byron, for example, into a frenzy of 
anger that called forth the most vigorous satire of the cen- 
tury; and others so completely unnerved Shelley that he 
felt tempted to write no more; and still others were so 
unanimously hostile in tone that Coleridge thought the 
whole detested tribe of critics was in league against his 
literary success. There were, of course, such admirable 
personalities as Wordsworth's — for the most part indif- 
ferent to the strongest torrent of abuse ; and clever crafts- 
men like Tennyson, who, although hurt, read the criticisms 
and profited by them ; but, on the other hand, there are still 
well-informed readers who believe that the Quarterly Re- 
viezv at least hastened the death of poor Keats. 

It has been suggested that such a volume of the " choice 
crudities of criticism " as is here proposed would likewise 
fulfill the desirable purpose of avenging the author upon 
his ancient enemy, the critic, by showing how absurd the 
latter's utterances often are, and what a veritable farrago 
of folly those collected utterances can make. We may 
rest assured that however much hostile criticism may have 
pained an author, it has never inflicted a permanent in- 
jury upon a good book. If there appear to be works that 
have been thus more or less obscured, the fault will prob- 
ably be found not in the critic but in the works themselves. 
According to this agreeable theory, which we would all 
fain believe, the triumph of the ignorant or malevolent 
critic cannot endure ; sooner or later the author's merit 
will be recognized and he will come into his own. 
• The present volume does not attempt to fulfill the con- 
ditions suggested by Dr. Matthews and Mr. Collins. A 
history of contemporary criticism of famous authors would 



PREFACE ix 

be a more ambitious undertaking, necessitating an ex- 
tensive apparatus of notes and references. It seeks merely 
to gatber a number of interesting anomalies of criticism — 
reviews of famous poems and famous poets diflfering more 
or less from the modern consensus of opinion concerning 
those poems and their authors. Although most of the 
chosen reviews are unfavorable, several others have been 
selected to afford evidence of an early appreciation of cer- 
tain poets. A few unexpectedly favorable notices, such 
as the Monthly Revieiv's critique of Browning's Sordello, 
are printed because they appear to be unique. The chief 
criterion in selecting these reviews (apart from the effort 
to represent most of the periodicals and the principal poets 
between Gray and Browning) has been that of interest 
to the modern reader. In most cases, criticisms of a 
writer's earlier works were preferred as more likely to be 
spontaneous and uninfluenced by his growing literary 
reputation. Thus the volume does not attempt to trace 
the development of English critical methods, nor to supply 
a hand-book of representative English criticism ; it offers 
merely a selection of bygone but readable reviews — what 
the critics thought, or, in some cases, pretended to think, 
of works of poets whom we have since held in honorable 
esteem. The short notices and the w^ell-known longer re- 
views are printed entire ; but considerations of space and 
interest necessitated excisions in a few cases, all of which 
are, of course, properly indicated. The spelling and punc- 
tuation of the original texts have been carefully followed. 
The history of English critical journals has not yet been 
adequately written. The following introduction offers a 
rapid survey of the subject, compiled principally from 
the sources indicated in the bibliographical list. I am 
indebted to Professor Felix E. Schelling of the University 
of Pennsylvania, and to Dr. Robert Ellis Thompson and 



X PREFACE 

Professor Albert H. Smyth of the Philadelphia Central 
High School for many suggestions that have been of 
value in writing the introduction. Dr. Edward Z. Davis 
examined at my request certain pamphlets in the British 
Museum that threw additional light upon the history of 
the early reviews. Dr. A. S. W. Rosenbach and Pro- 
fessor J. H. Moffatt read the proofs of the introduction 
and notes respectively, and suggested several noteworthy 
improvements. 

J. L. H. 
Central High School, 
Philadelphia. 



CONTENTS 

Preface vii 

Introduction xiii 

Bibliography Ivi 

REVIEWS 

Gray Odes (Monthly Review) i 

Goldsmith The Traveller (Critical Review) 5 

CowPER Poems, 1782 ( Critical Reviezv) 10 

Burns Poems, 1786 (Edinburgh Magazine) 13 

Poems, 1786 (Critical Review) 15 

Wordsworth Descriptive Sketches (Monthly Review) 16 

An Evening Walk (Monthly Review) 19 

Lyrical Ballads (Critical Reviezv) 20 

Poems, 1807 (Edinburgh Reviezv) 24 

Coleridge Christabel (Edinburgh Review) 47 

SouTHEY Madoc (Monthly Review) 60 

Lamb Blank Verse (Monthly Review) 65 

Album Verses (Literary Gazette) 66 

Landor Gebir (British Critic) 68 

Gebir (Monthly Review) 69 

ScoTT Marmion (Edinburgh Review) 70 

Bvron Hours of Idleness (Edinburgh Review) 94 

Childe Harold (Christian Observer) loi 

Shelley Alastor (Monthly Review) 115 

The Cenci (London Magazine) 116 

Adonais (Literary Gazette) 129 

Keats Endymion (Quarterly Review) 135 

Endymion (Blackzvood's Magazine) 141 

Tennyson Timbuctoo (Athenccum) 151 

Poems, 1833 (Quarterly Review) 152 

The Princess (Literary Gazette) 176 

Browning Paracelsus (Athenccum) 187 

Sordello (Monthly Reviezv) 188 

Men and Women (Saturday Review) 189 

Notes 197 

Index 223 

zi 



INTRODUCTION 



To the modern reader, with an abundance of period- 
icals of all sorts and upon all subjects at hand, it seems 
hardly possible that this wealth of ephemeral litera- 
ture was virtually developed within the past two cen- 
turies. It offers such a rational means for the dissemi- 
nation of the latest scientific and literary news that the 
mind undeceived by facts would naturally place the origin 
of the periodical near the invention of printing itself. 
Apart from certain sporadic manifestations of what is 
termed, by courtesy, periodical literature, the real begin- 
ning of that important department of letters was in the 
innumerable Mcrcurii that flourished in London after 
the outbreak of the Civil War. Although the British 
Museum Catalogue presents a long list of these curious 
messengers and news-carriers, the only one that could 
be of interest in the present connection is the Mercurius 
Librarius; or a Catalogue of Books Printed and Pub- 
lished at London'^ (1668-70), the contents of which 
simply fulfilled the promise of its title. 

Literary journals in England were, however, not a 
native development, but were copied, like the fashions and 
artistic norms of that period, from the French. The 
famous and long-lived Journal des Sgarans was begun 
at Paris in 1665 by M. Denis de Sallo, who has been 
called, since the time of Voltaire, the " inventor " of 
literary journals. In 1684 Pierre Bayle began at Amster- 
dam the publication of Noiivelles de la Rcpublique des 
Lettres, which continued under various hands until 1718. 



* Reprinted in Professor Arber's The Term Catalogues (1668- 
1709). London, privately printed, 1903. 
I xiii 



xiv INTRODUCTION 

These French periodicals were the acknowledged inspira- 
tion for similar ventures in England, beginning in 1682 
with the ll/'cckly Memorial for the Ingenious: or an Ac- 
count of Books lately set forth in Several Languages, with 
some other Curious Novelties relating to Arts and Sci- 
ences. The preface stated the intention of the publishers 
to notice foreign as well as domestic works, and to tran- 
scribe the " curious novelties " from the Journal des 
Sqavans. Fifty weekly numbers appeared (1682-83), 
consisting principally of translations of the best articles 
in the French journal. 

A few years later (1686), the Genevan theologian, Jean 
Le Clerc, then a resident of London, established the Uni- 
versal Historical Bibliotheqne ; or, an Account of most of 
the Considerable Books printed in All Languages, which 
was continued by various hands until 1693 in a series 
of twenty-five quarto volumes. Contemporary with this 
review was a number of similar publications which had 
for the most part a brief existence. Among them was 
the Athenian Mercury, published on Tuesdays and Satur- 
days (1691-1696), the History of Learning, which ap- 
peared for a short time in 1691 and again in 1694; Works 
of the Learned (1691-92) ; the Young Student's Library 
(1692) and its continuation, the Conipleat Library (1692- 
94) ; Memoirs for the Ingenious (1693) ; the Universal 
Mercury (1694) and Miscellaneous Letters, etc. (1694- 
96). Samuel Parkes includes among the reviews of this 
period Sir Thomas Pope Blount's remarkable Censura 
Celebrium Authorum (1690). That popular biblio- 
graphical dictionary of criticism (reprinted 1694, 1710 
and 1 718) is only remembered now for its omission of 
Shakespeare, Spenser, Jonson and Milton from its list of 
" celebrated authors." Neither that volume nor the same 
author's De Re Poetica (1694) finds a proper place in a 



INTRODUCTION xv 

list of* periodicals. They should be grouped with such 
works as Phillips' Tlicatrum Poetariim (1675) and Lang- 
baine's Account of the English Dramatic Poets (1691) 
among the more deliberate attempts at literary criticism. 
Between 1692-94 appeared the Gentleman's Journal; 
or, the Monthly Miscellany. Consisting of News, His- 
tory, Philosophy, Poetry, Music, Translations, etc. This 
noteworthy paper, edited by Peter Anthony Motteux 
while he was translating Rabelais, included among its 
contributors Aphra Behn, Oldmixon, Dennis, D'Urfey 
and others. In many ways it anticipated the plan of the 
Gentleman's Magazine (1731), which has usually been 
accorded the honor of priority among English literary 
magazines. The History of the Works of the Learned; 
or, an Impartial Account of Books lately printed in all 
Parts of Europe was begun in 1699 and succumbed after 
the publication of its thirteenth volume (1711). Among 
its editors was George Ridpath, who was afterwards 
immortalized in Pope's Dunciad. The careers of the 
Monthly Miscellany (1707-09) and Censura Temporum 
(1709-10) were brief. About the same time an ex- 
tensive series of periodicals was begun by a Huguenot 
refugee, Michael De la Roche, who fled to England after 
the revocation of the Edict of Nantes and became an 
Episcopalian. After several years of hack-work for the 
booksellers, he published (1710) the first numbers of his 
Memoirs of Literature , containing a Weekly Account of 
the State of Learning at Home and Abroad, which he 
continued until 17 14 and for a few months in 171 7. In 
the latter year he began at Amsterdam his Bibliothcquc 
Angloise (1717-27). continued by his Memoires Littcr- 
aires de la Grande Brctagne i 1720-1724) after the editor- 
ship of the former had been placed in other hands on 
account of his pronounced anti-Calvinistic views. At 



xvi INTRODUCTION 

Amsterdam, Daniel Le Clerc, a brother of the Jban Le 
Clerc already mentioned, published his Bibliotheque 
Choiscc (1703-14) and his Bibliotheque Ancienne et 
Modcrne (1714-28). Both of these periodicals suggested 
numerous ideas to De la Roche, who returned to London 
and conducted the New Memoirs of Literature (1725-27). 
His last venture was a Literary Journal, or a Continuation 
of the Memoirs of Literature, which lasted about a year. 
Contemporary with De la Roche, Samuel Jebb con- 
ducted Bibliotheca Literaria (1722-24), dealing with 
" inscriptions, medals, dissertations, etc." In 1728 An- 
drew Reid began the Present State of the Republick 
of Letters, which reached its eighteenth volume in 1736. 
It was then incorporated with the Literary Magazine; or 
the History of the Works of the Learned (1735-36) and 
the joint periodical was henceforth published as a History 
of the Works of the Learned imtil 1743. Other less ex- 
tensive literary journals of the same period were Archi- 
bald Bower's Historia Literaria (1730-34) ; the Bee; or, 
Universal Weekly Pamphlet (1733-35), edited by Addi- 
son's cousin, Eustace Budgell ; the British Librarian, ex- 
hibiting a Compendious Review or Abstract of our most 
Scarce, Useful and Valuable Books, etc., pubHshed anon- 
ymously by the antiquarian William Oldys, from January 
to June, 1737, and much esteemed by modern biblio- 
philes as a pioneer and a curiosity of its kind ; a Literary 
Journal (1744-49) published at Dublin; and, finally, the 
Museum; or the Literary and Historical Register. This 
interesting periodical printed essays, poems and reviews 
by such contributors as Spence, Horace Walpole, the 
brothers Warton, Akenside, Lowth and others. It was 
published fortnightly from March, 1746 to September, 
1747, making three octavo volumes. 



INTRODUCTION xvii 

The periodicals enumerated thus far can hardly be re- 
garded as literary in the modern acceptation of the term ; 
they were, for the most part, ponderous, learned and 
scientific in character, and, with the exception of the 
Gcntlonan's Journal and Dodsley's Museum, rarely ven- 
tured into the domain of belles-lettres. An occasional 
erudite dissertation on classical poetry or on the French 
canons of taste suggested a literary intent, but the bulk 
of the journab was supplied by articles on natural his- 
tory, curious experiments, physiological treatises and 
historical essays. During the latter half of the eighteenth 
century theological and political writings, and accounts 
of travels in distant lands became the staple offering of 
the reviews. 

A new era in the history of English periodicals was 
marked by the publication, on May i, 1749, of the first 
number of the Monthly Revieiv, destined to continue 
through ninety-six years of varying fortune and to reach 
its 249th volume. It bore the subtitle : A Periodical 
Work giving an Account, zvith Proper Abstracts of, and 
Extracts from, the Nezv Books, Pamphlets, etc., as they 
come out. By Several Hands. The publisher was Ralph 
Griflfiths, who continued to manage the review until his 
death in 1803. It seems remarkable that this periodical 
which set the norm for half a century should have ap- 
peared not only without preface or advertisement, but 
likewise without patronage or support of any kind. From 
the first it reviewed poetry, fiction and drama as well as 
the customary classes of applied literature, and thus ap- 
pealed primarily to the public rather than, like most of 
its predecessors, to the learned. Its politics were Whig 
and its theology Non-conformist. Griffiths was not suc- 
cessful at first, but determined to achieve popularity by 
enlisting Rufifliead, Kippis, Langhorne and several other 



xviii INTRODUCTION 

minor writers on his critical staff. In 1757 Oliver Gold- 
smith became one of those unfortunate hacks as a result 
of his well-known agreement with Griffiths to serve as an 
assistant-editor in exchange for his board, lodging and 
" an adequate salary." About a score of miscellaneous 
reviews from Goldsmith's pen — including critiques of 
Home's Douglas, Burke's On the Sublime and the Beauti- 
ful, Smollett's History of England and Gray's Odes — 
appeared in the Monthly Reviciv during 1757-58. The 
contract with Griffiths was soon broken, probably on ac- 
count of incompatibility of temper. Goldsmith declared 
that he had been over-worked and badly treated ; but it is 
quite likely that his idleness and irregular habits con- 
tributed largely to the misunderstanding. 

Meanwhile, a Tory rival and a champion of the Estab- 
lished Church had appeared on the field. A printer 
named Archibald Hamilton projected the Critical Re- 
vieiv: or, Annals of Literature. By a Society of Gen- 
tlemen, which began to appear in February, 1756, under 
the editorship of Tobias Smollett and extended to a total 
of 144 volumes when it ceased publication in 181 7. Its 
articles were of a high order for the time and the new 
review soon became popular. The open rivalry between 
the reviews was fostered by an exchange of editorial com- 
pliments. Griffiths published a statement that the 
Monthly was not written by " physicians without practice, 
authors without learning, men without decency, gentlemen 
without manners, and critics without judgment." Smollett 
retorted that " the Critical Reviezv is not written by a 
parcel of obscure hirelings, under the restraint of a book- 
seller and his wife, who presume to revise, alter and amend 
the articles occasionally. The principal writers in the 
Critical Reviezv are unconnected with booksellers, unawed 
by old women, and independent of each other." Such 



INTRODUCTION xix 

literary encounters did not fail to stimulate public interest 
in both reviews and to add materially to their circulation. 
When the first volume of the Critical Review was com- 
plete, the " Society of Gentlemen " enriched it with an 
ornate, self-congratulatory Preface in which they said of 
themselves : 

" However they may have erred in j udgment, they have de- 
clared their thoughts without prejudice, fear, or affectation; and 
strove to forget the author's person, while his works fell under 
their consideration. They have treated simple dulness as the 
object of mirth or compassion, according to the nature of its 
appearance. Petulance and self-conceit they have corrected with 
more severe strictures ; and though they have given no quarter to 
insolence, scurrility and sedition, they will venture to affirm, 
that no production of merit has been defrauded of its due share 
of applause. On the contrary, they have cherished with com- 
mendation, the very faintest bloom of genius, even when vapid 
and unformed, in hopes of its being warmed into flavour, and 
afterwards producing agreeable fruit by dint of proper care and 
culture ; and never, without reluctance disapproved, even of a 
bad writer, who had the least title to indulgence. The judicious 
reader will perceive that their aim has been to exhibit a succinct 
plan of every performance ; to point out the most striking beauties 
and glaring defects ; to illustrate their remarks with proper 
quotations ; and to convey these remarks in such a manner, as 
might best conduce to the entertainment of the public." 

Moreover, these high ideals were entertained under the 
most unfavorable circumstances. By the time the second 
volume was complete, the editors took pleasure in an- 
nouncing that in spite of " open assault and private 
assassination," " published reproach and printed letters of 
abuse, distributed like poisoned arrows in the dark," yea, 
in spite of the " breath of secret calumny " and the " loud 
blasts of obloquy," the Critical Review was more strongly 
entrenched than before. 

There was more than mere rhodomontade in these 



XX INTRODUCTION 

words. Not only did open rivalry exist between the two 
reviews, but they were both made the subject of violent 
attacks by authors whose productions had been con- 
demned on their pages. John Brine (1755), John Sheb- 
beare (1757), Horace Walpole (1759), William Kenrick 
(1759), James Grainger (1759) and Joseph Reed (1759) 
are the earliest of the many writers who issued pamphlets 
in reply to articles in the reviews. In 1759 Smollett was 
tried at the King's Bench for aspersions upon the char- 
acter of Admiral Sir Charles Knowles published in the 
Critical Review. He was declared guilty, fined £100, 
and sentenced to three months' imprisonment. Yet in 
spite of such difificulties, the Critical Review continued to 
find favor among its readers. The articles written by 
its " Society of Gentlemen " were on the whole far more 
interesting in subject and treatment than the work of 
Griffiths' unfortunate hacks; but the Monthly was also 
prospering, as in 1761 a fourth share in that review was 
sold for more than £755. 

In 1760 appeared a curious anonymous satire entitled 
The Battle of the Reviews, which presented, upon the 
model of Swift's spirited account of the contest between 
ancient and modern learning, a fantastic description of 
the open warfare between the two reviews. After a for- 
mal declaration of hostilities both sides marshal their 
forces for the struggle. The " noble patron " of the 
Monthly is but slightly disguised as the Right Honourable 
Rehoboam Gruflfy, Esq. His associates Sir Imp Brazen, 
Mynheer Tanaquil Limmonad, Martin Problem, and 
others were probably recognized by contemporary readers. 
To oppose this array the Critical summons a force that 
contains only two names of distinction, Sampson Mac- 
Jackson and Sawney MacSmallhead (i. e., Smollett). 
The ensuing battle, which is described at great length, 



INTRODUCTION xxi 

results in a victory for the Critical Rcz'ieii', and tlie 
banishment of Squire Gruffy to the land of the Hottentots. 
Dr. Johnson's well-known characterization of the two 
reviews was quite just. On the occasion of his memorable 
interview (1767) with George III, Johnson gave the 
King information concerning the Journal des Savans and 
said of the two English reviews that " the Monthly Re- 
z'iczi' was done with most care ; the Critical upon the best 
principles; adding that the authors of the Monthly Rc- 
z'iczv were enemies to the Church." Some years later 
Johnson said of the reviews : 

" I think them very impartial : I do not know an instance of 
partiality. . . . The Monthly Reviewers are not Deists ; but they 
are Christians with as little Christianity as may be; and are for 
pulling down all establishments. The Critical Reviewers are for 
supporting the constitution both in church and state. The 
Critical Reviewers, I believe, often review without reading the 
books through; but lay hold of a topick and write chiefly from 
their own minds. The Monthly Reviewers are duller men and 
are glad to read the books through." 

Goldsmith's successor on the Monthly stafif was the 
notorious libeller and " superlative scoundrel," Dr. Wil- 
liam Kenrick, who signalized his advent (November, 
1759) by writing an outrageous attack upon Goldsmith's 
Enquiry info the Present State of Polite Learning in 
Europe. His utterances were so thoroughly unjustified 
that Griffiths, who had scant reason for praising poor 
Oliver, made an indirect apology for his unworthy minion 
by a favorable though brief review (June, 1762) of The 
Citizen of the World. During 1759 the Critical Review 
published a number of Goldsmith's articles which prob- 
ably enabled the impecunious author to efifect his removal 
from the garret in Salisbury Square to the famous lodg- 
ings in Green Arbour Court. After March, 1760, we 
find no record of his association v/ith either review, al- 



xxii INTRODUCTION 

though he afterwards wrote for the British Magazine and 
others. 

During the latter half of the century several reviews 
appeared and flourished for a time without serious damage 
to their well-established rivals. The Literary Magazine; 
or Universal Review (1756-58) is memorable for John- 
son's cooperation and a half-dozen articles by Goldsmith. 
Boswell tells us that Johnson wrote for the magazine until 
the fifteenth number and "that he never gave better proofs 
of the force, acuteness and vivacity of his mind, than in 
this miscellany, whether we consider his original essays, or 
his reviews of the works of others." The London Re- 
view of English and Foreign Literature (1775-80) was 
conducted by the infamous Kenrick and others who faith- 
fully maintained the editor's well-recognized policy of 
vicious onslaught and personal abuse. Pavil Henry Maty, 
an assistant-librarian of the British Museum, conducted 
for five years a New Review (1782-86), often called 
Maty's Review, and dealing principally with learned 
works. It apparently enjoyed some authority, but both 
Walpole and Gibbon spoke unfavorably of Maty's critical 
pretensions. The English Reviczv; or, an Abstract of 
English and Foreign Literature (1783-96), extended to 
twenty-eight volumes modelled upon the plan of the older 
periodicals. In 1796 it was incorporated with the Analyt- 
ical Review (1788) and survived under the latter title 
until 1799. The Analytical Reviczv deprecated the self- 
sufficient attitude of contemporary criticism and advo- 
cated extensive quotations from the works under con- 
sideration so that readers might be able to judge for them- 
selves. It likewise hinted at the tacit understanding then 
existing between certain authors, publishers and reviews 
for their mutual advantage, but which was arousing a 
growing feeling of distrust on the part of the public. The 



INTRODUCTION xxiii 

British Critic (1793- 1843) was edited by William Beloe 
and Robert Xares as the organ of the High Church Party. 
This " dull mass of orthodoxy " concerned itself ex- 
tensively with literary reviews ; but its articles were best 
known for their lack of interest and authority. The 
foibles of the British Critic were satirized in Bishop 
Copleston's Advice to a Young Reviewer (1807) with an 
appended mock critique of Milton's L'Allegro. In 1826 
it was united with the Quarterly Theological Review and 
continued until 1843. 

The Anti-Jacobin Review and Magazine; or, Monthly 
Political and Literary Censor (i 799-1 821) played a 
strenuous role in the troublous times of the Napoleonic 
wars. It continued the policy of the Anti-Jacobin, or 
Weekly Examiner (1797-98) conducted with such 
marked vigor by William Gififord. but it numbered among 
its contributors none of the brilliant men whose witty 
verses for the weekly paper are still read in the popular 
Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin. The Review was conducted 
by John Richards Green, better known as John Gififord. 
Its articles were at times sensational in character, viciously 
abusing writers of known or suspected republican senti- 
ments. From its pages could be culled a new series of 
" Beauties of the Anti- Jacobin " which for sheer vitu- 
peration and relentless abuse would be without a rival 
among such anthologies. 

At the beginning of the nineteenth century, the prin- 
cipal reviews in course of publication were the Monthly, 
the Critical, the British Critic, and the Anti-Jacobin. The 
latter was preeminently vulgar in its appeal, the Critical 
had lost its former prestige, and the other two had never 
risen above a level of mediocrity. There was more than 
a lurking suspicion that these periodicals were, to a cer- 
tain extent, booksellers' organs, quite unreliable on ac- 



XXIV INTRODUCTION 

count of the partial and biassed criticisms which they 
offered the dissatisfied pubHc. The time was evidently 
ripe for a new departure in literary reviews — for the estab- 
lishment of a trustworthy critical journal, conducted by 
capable editors and printing readable notices of important 
books. People were quite willing to have an unfortu- 
nate author assailed and flayed for their entertainment; 
but they did not care to be deceived by laudatory criticisms 
that were inspired by the publisher's name instead of the 
intrinsic merits of the work itself. 

Such was the state of affairs when Francis Jeffrey, 
Henry Brougham and Sydney Smith launched the Edin- 
burgh Rcviezv in 1802, choosing a name that had been 
borne in 1755-56 by a short-lived semi-annual review. 
There were several significant facts associated with the 
new enterprise. It was the first important literary period- 
ical to be published beyond the metropolis. It was the 
first review to appear quarterly — an interval that most 
contemporary journalists would have condemned as too 
long for a successful review. Moreover, it was conducted 
upon an entirely different principle than any previous re- 
view ; by restricting its attention to the most important 
works of each quarter, it gave extensive critiques of only 
a few books in each number and thus avoided the multi- 
tude of perfunctory notices that had made previous re- 
views so dreary and unreadable. 

The idea of founding the Edinburgh Revieiv was ap- 
parently suggested by Sydney Smith in March, 1802. 
Jeffrey and Francis Horner were his immediate associates ; 
but during the period of preparation Henry Brougham, 
Dr. Thomas Brown, Dr. John Thomson and others became 
interested. After some delay, the first number appeared 
on October 10, 1802, containing among its twenty-nine 
articles three by Brougham, five by Horner, six by Jeffrey 



INTRODUCTION xxv 

and nine by Smith. Although there was a shght feeling 
of disapi^ointment over the mild political tone of the new 
review, its success was immediate. The edition of 750 
copies was speedily disposed of, and within a month a 
second edition of equal size was printed. There was no 
regular editor at first, although the publication of the 
first three numbers was practically superintended by 
Smith. Afterwards Jeffrey became editor at a salary of 
£300. He had previously written some articles (including 
a critique of Southey's Thalaha) for the Monthly Re- 
z-icw and was pessimistic enough to anticipate an early 
failure for the new venture. However, at the tinie he 
assumed control (July, 1803) the circulation was 2500, 
and within five years it reached 8,000 or 9,000 copies. 
Jeffrey's articles were recognized and much admired ; but 
the success of the Edinburgh was due to its independent 
tone and general excellence rather than to the individual 
contributions of its editor. Its prosperity enabled the 
publishers to offer the contributors attractive remunera- 
tion for their articles, thus assuring the cooperation of 
specialists and of the most capable men of letters of the 
day. At the outset, ten guineas per sheet were paid ; later 
sixteen became the minimum, and the average ranged 
from twenty to twenty-five guineas. When we recall that 
the Critical Review paid two, and the Monthly Review 
sometimes four guineas per sheet, we can readily under- 
stand the distinctly higher standard of the Edinburgh 
Review. 

Homer left Scotland for London in 1803 to embark 
upon a political career. During the next six years occa- 
sional articles from his pen — less than a score in all — 
appeared in the review. Smith and Brougham likewise 
left Edinburgh in 1803 and 1805 respectively; but they 
ably supported Jeffrey by sending numerous contributions 



xxvi INTRODUCTION 

for many years. During the first quarter-century of the 
review's existence, this trio, with the cooperation of Sir 
James Mackintosh and a few others, constituted the main- 
stay of its success. Jeffrey's remarkable critical faculty 
was displayed to best advantage in the wide range of 
articles (two hundred in number) which he wrote during 
his editorship. It is true that his otherwise sound judg- 
ment was unable to grasp the significance of the new 
poetic movement of his day, and that his best remembered 
efforts are the diatribes against the Lake Poets. Hence, 
in the eyes of the modern literary dilettante, he figures 
as a misguided, domineering Zoilus whose mission in life 
was to heap ridicule upon the poetical efforts of Words- 
worth, Coleridge and the lesser disciples of romanticism. 

There are in the early volumes of the Edinburgh no 
more conspicuous qualities than that air of vivacity and 
graceful wit, so thoroughly characteristic of Sydney 
Smith. The reader who turns to those early numbers 
may be disappointed in the literary quality of the average 
article, for he will instinctively and unfairly make com- 
parison with more recent standards, instead of considering 
the immeasurably inferior conditions that had previously 
prevailed; but we may safely assert that the majority 
of Smith's articles can be read with interest to-day. He 
was sufficiently sedate and serious when occasion de- 
manded ; yet at all times he delighted in the display of 
his native and sparkling humor. Although most of his 
important articles have been collected, far too much of his 
work lies buried in that securest of literary sepulchres — 
the back numbers of a critical review. 

Henry Brougham at first wrote the scientific articles 
for the Edinburgh. Soon his ability to deal with a wide 
range of subjects was recognized and he proved the most 
versatile of the early reviewers. In the first twenty num- 



INTRODUCTION xxvii 

bers are eighty articles from his pen. A story that does 
not admit of verification attributes to Brougham a whole 
number of the Edinburgh, including an article on lithot- 
omy and another on Chinese music. Later he became 
especially distinguished for his political articles, and re- 
mained a contributor long after Jeffrey and Smith had 
withdrawn. A comparatively small portion of his Edin- 
burgh articles was reprinted (1856) in three volumes. 

Although the young men who guided the early fortunes 
of the review were Whigs, the Edinburgh was not (as is 
generally believed) founded as a Whig organ. In fact, 
the political complexion of their articles was so subdued 
that even stalwart Tories like Walter Scott did not re- 
frain from contributing to its pages. Scott's Marniion 
was somewhat sharply reviewed by Jefifrey in April, 1808, 
and in the following October appeared the article by 
Jeffrey and Brougham upon Don Pedro Cevallos' French 
Usurpation of Spain. The pronounced Whiggism of that 
critique led to an open rupture with the Tory contributors. 
Scott, who was no longer on the best terms with Con- 
stable, the publisher of the Edinburgh, declared that 
henceforth he could neither receive nor read the review. 
He proposed to John ^Murray — then of Fleet Street — the 
founding of a Tory quarterly in London as a rival to the 
northern review that had thus far enjoyed undisputed 
possession of the field, because it afforded " the only 
valuable literary criticism which can be met with." 
Murray, who had already entertained the idea of estab- 
lishing such a review, naturally welcomed the prospect 
of so powerful an ally. Like a good Tory, Scott felt that 
the " flashy and bold character of the Edinburgh's politics 
was likely to produce an indelible impression upon the 
youth of the country." He ascertained that William 
Gifford, formerly editor of the Anti-Jacobin newspaper, 



xxviii INTRODUCTION 

was willing to take charge of the new review, which Scott 
desired to be not exclusively nor principally political, but 
a " periodical work of criticism conducted with equal 
talent, but upon sounder principle than that which had 
gained so high a station in the world of letters." 

In February, 1809, appeared the first number of the 
Quarterly Rcviczv. Three of its articles were by Scott, 
who continued to contribute for some time and whose 
advice was frequently sought by both editor and publisher. 
Canning, Ellis, and others who had written for the then 
defunct Anti-Jacobin became interested in the Quarterly; 
but the principal contributors for many years were Robert 
Southey, John Wilson Croker and Sir John Barrow. This 
trio contributed an aggregate of almost five hundred 
articles to the Quarterly. In spite of its high standard, 
the new venture was a financial failure for at least the 
first two years ; later, especially in the days of Tory 
triumph after the overthrow of Napoleon, the Quarterly 
flourished beyond all expectation. Gifford's salary as 
editor was raised from the original £200 to £900; for 
many years Southey was paid £100 for. each article. 
Gifford was distinctly an editor of the old school, with 
well-defined ideas of his official privilege of altering con- 
tributed articles to suit himself — a weakness that like- 
wise afflicted Francis Jeffrey. While it appears that 
Gifford wrote practically nothing for the review and that 
the savage Endymion article so persistently attributed to 
him was really the work of Croker, he was an excellent 
manager and conducted the literary afifairs of the 
Quarterly with considerable skill. His lack of system 
and of business qualifications, however, resulted in the 
frequently irregular appearance of the early numbers. 

On account of his failing health, Gififord resigned the 
editorship of the Quarterly in 1824, and was succeeded by 



INTRODUCTION xxix 

John Taylor Coleridge, whose brief and unimportant 
administration served merely to fill the gap until an effi- 
cient successor for Gifford could be found. The choice 
fell upon Scott's son-in-law, John Gibson Lockhart, who, 
from 1825 to 1853, proved to be a most capable editor. 
The subsequent history of the review under Whitwell 
Elwin (1853-1860), William Macpherson (1860-1867), 
Sir William Smith (1867-1893), Mr. Rowland Prothero 
(1894-1899) and the latter's brother, Mr. George Pro- 
thero, the present editor, naturally lies beyond the purposes 
of this introduction. 

The period of Lockhart's editorship of the Quarterly 
W'as likewise the golden epoch of the Edinburgh. Sydney 
Smith's contributions ceased about 1828. In the follow- 
ing year Jeffrey was elected Dean of the Faculty of Advo- 
cates. He felt that the tenure of his new dignity de- 
manded the relinquishment of the editorship of an inde- 
pendent literary and political review ; accordingly, after 
editing the ninety-eighth number of the Edinburgh, he 
retired in favor of Macvey Napier, who had been a con- 
tributor since 1805. Napier conducted the review with 
great success from 1829 until his death in 1847. His 
policy was to prefer shorter articles than those printed 
when he assumed control. At first, each number con- 
tained from fifteen to twenty-five articles ; but the growing 
length and importance of the political contributions had 
reduced the average to ten. The return to the original 
policy naturally resulted in a greater variety of purely 
literary articles. 

Macaulay had begun his association with the Edin- 
burgh by his remarkable essay on Milton in 1825 — a 
bold, striking piece of criticism, full of the fire of youth, 
which established his literary reputation and gave a re- 
newed impetus to the already prosperous review. Dur- 



XXX INTRODUCTION 

ing Napier's editorship he contributed his essays on 
Croker's Boswell, Hampden, Burleigh, Horace Walpole, 
Lord Chatham, Bacon, Clive, Hastings and many others. 
Napier experienced some difficulty in steering a middle 
course for the review between Lord Brougham, who 
sought to use its pages to further his own political ambi- 
tions, and Macaulay, who vigorously denounced the pro- 
cedure. The Edinburgh was no longer conspicuous 
among its numerous contemporaries ; but the literary 
quality was much higher than at first. Among the other 
famous contributors of this period were Carlyle, John 
Stuart Mill, Thackeray, Bulwer, Hallam, Sir William 
Hamilton and many others. This was undoubtedly the 
greatest period in the history of the review. Its power in 
Whig politics is shown by the fact that Lord Melbourne 
and Lord John Russell sought to make it the organ of the 
government. 

Napier's successor in 1847 was William Empson, who 
had contributed to the Edinburgh since 1823 and who held 
the editorship until his demise in 1852. Next followed 
Sir George Cornewall Lewis, who, however, resigned in 
1855 to become Chancellor of the Exchequer in Lord 
Palmerston's cabinet. During his regime he wrote less 
than a score of articles for the review. His immediate 
successor was the late Henry Reeve, whose forty years of 
faithful service until his death in 1895 brings the review 
practically to our own day. When Reeve began his duties 
by editing No. 206 (April, 1855) Lord Brougham was 
the only survivor of the contributors to the original num- 
ber. In 1857, when a discussion arose between editor and 
publisher concerning the denunciatory attitude assumed 
by the review toward Lord Palmerston's ministry, Reeve 
drew up a list of his contributors at that time, including 
Bishop (afterwards Archbishop) Tait, George Grote, 



INTRODUCTION xxxi 

John Forster, I\I. Guizot, the Duke of Argyll, Rev. Canon 
Moseley, George S. Venables, Richard Monckton Milnes 
and a score of others — most of them " names of the 
highest honour and the most consistent adherence to 
Liberal principles." Within the four decades that fol- 
lowed, the personnel of the review has made another 
almost complete change. A new group of contributors, 
under the editorship of Hon. x\rthur R. D. Elliot, is now 
striving to maintain the standards of old " blue and 
yellow." A caustic note in the (1890) Annual Index of 
Rcviczij of Reviews said of the Edinburgh: 

" It has long since subsided into a respectable exponent of 
high and dry Whiggery, which in these later days has undergone 
a further degeneration or evolution into Unionism. . . . Audacity, 
wit, unconventionality, enthusiasm — all these qualities have long 
since evaporated, and with them has disappeared the political 
influence of the Edinburgh." 

The two great rivals which are now reaching their cen- 
tenary* are still the most prominent, in fact the only well- 
known literary quarterlies of England. During their life- 
time many quarterlies have risen, flourished for a time 
and perished. The Wcstuiinstcr Rcviczv, founded 1824, 
by Jeremy Bentham, appeared under the editorship of Sir 
John Bowring and Henry Southern. As the avowed 
organ of the Radicals it lost no time in assailing (prin- 
cipally through the vigorous pens of James Mill and 
John Stuart Mill) both the Edinburgh and the Quarterly. 
In 1836 Sir William ]\IoIesworth's recently established 
London Rciiczc was united with the JJ'cstniinstcr, and, 
after several changes of joint title, continued since 185 1 
as the Westminster Reviezi'. Since 1887 it has been pub- 



* See the centenary number of the Edinburgh Revicdi' (October, 
1902). During the editor's recent tenure of government office, the 
review was temporarily edited by Mr. E. S. Roscoe. 



xxxii INTRODUCTION 

lished as a monthly of Liberal policy and " high-class 
philosophy." The Dublin Review (London, 1836) still 
continues quarterly as a Roman Catholic organ ; similarly 
the London Quarterly Review, a Wesleyan organ, has 
been published since 1853. Of the quarterlies now de- 
funct, it will suffice to mention the dissenting Eclectic 
Rcviezv (1805-68) owned and edited for a time by Josiah 
Conder; the British Review ( 181 1-25) ; the' Christian 
Remembrancer (1819-68), which was a monthly during 
its early history; the Retrospective Review (1820-26, 
1853-54) conducted by Henry Southern and afterwards 
Sir Nicholas Harris Nicolas as a critical review for old 
and curious books; the English Review (1844-53) > ^^^ 
the North British Revieiv (1844-71), published at Edin- 
burgh. The impulse toward the study of continental 
literature during the third decade of the century gave rise 
to the Foreign Quarterly Rcviezv (1827-46) ; the Foreign 
Review and Continental Miscellany (1828-30) and the 
British and Foreign Review (1835-44), continued as the 
British Quarterly Review (1845-86). 

A most determined effort to rival the older quarterlies 
resulted in the National Rcviezv, founded in 1855 by 
Walter Bagehot and Richard Holt Hutton. Its articles 
were exhaustive, well-written and thoroughly charac- 
teristic of their class. In addition to the excellent work 
of both editors, there were contributions by James Mar- 
tineau, Matthew Arnold, and Hutton's brother-in-law, 
William Caldwell Roscoe. Yet, in spite of the high 
standards maintained until the end, the National ceased 
publication in 1864. The many failures in this class of 
periodicals seem to indicate quite clearly that the spirit of 
the age no longer favors a quarterly. For our energetic 
and progressive era such an interval is too long. The 
confirmed admirer of the elaborate essays of the Edin- 



INTRODUCTION xxxiu 

burgh and the Quarterly will continue to welcome their 
bulky numbers ; but the average reader is strongly pre- 
judiced in favor of the more frequent, more attractive and 
more thoroughly entertaining monthlies. 

It is one of the curiosities in the history of periodical 
literature that no popular monthly developed during the 
first half of the nineteenth century : the great quarterlies 
apparently usurped the entire field. We have already 
seen that the Critical Reviczv came to an end in 1817 
whilst the Monthly continued until 1843. I" both cases, 
however, the publication amounted to little more than 
a sheer struggle for existence. The Monthly's attempt 
to imitate in a smaller way the plan of the quarterlies 
proved an unqualified failure. Neither of the two period- 
icals established at the beginning of the century ever 
achieved a position of critical authority. The Christian 
Observer, started (1802) by Josiah Pratt and conducted 
by Zachary Macaulay until 18 16, was devoted mainly 
to the abolition of the slave-trade. Its subsequent his- 
tory until its demise in 1877 i^ confined almost wholly to 
the theological pale. The second periodical was the 
Monthly Repository of Theology and General Literature 
(1806-37), which achieved some literary prominence for 
a time under the editorship of W. J. Fox. During the 
last two years of its existence, Richard Hengist Home 
and Leigh Hunt became its successive editors, but failed 
to avert the final collapse. 

It would be useless to enumerate the many short-lived 
attempts, such as the Monthly Censor (1822) and Long- 
man's Monthly Chronicle (1838-41) that were made to 
provide a successful monthly review. The first of the 
modern literary monthlies was the Fortnightly Review, 
established in 1865, evidently upon the model of Revue 
des Deux Mondes, which had been published at Paris 



xxxiv INTRODUCTION 

since 1831. Like the great French periodical, it was 
issued fortnightly (at first) and printed signed articles. 
It was Liberal in politics, agnostic in religion and abreast 
of the times in science. The publishers, Messrs. Chap- 
man and Hall, secured an experienced editor in George 
Henry Lewes, who had contributed extensively to most 
of the reviews then in progress. The success of the new 
review was assured by the presence of such names as 
Walter Bagehot, George Eliot, Sir John Herschel, Mr. 
Frederic Harrison and Herbert Spencer on its list of con- 
tributors. It provided articles of timely interest in 
politics, literature, art and science; in its early volumes 
appeared serially Anthony Trollope's Belton Estate and 
Mr. George Meredith's Vittoria. 

Lewes edited the first six volumes, covering the years 
1865-66. The review was then made a monthly without, 
however, changing its now inappropriate name, and the 
editorship was accepted by Mr. John Morley, who con- 
ducted the Fortnightly with great success for sixteen 
years. Most of the earlier contributors were retained ; 
others like Mr. Swinburne, J. A. Symonds, Professor 
Edward Dowden and (Sir) Leslie Stephen established a 
standard of literary criticism that was practically un- 
rivalled. The authority of its scientific and political 
writers was equally high ; as for serial fiction, Mr. Morley 
published Mr. Meredith's Bemichamp's Career and The 
Tragic Comedians, besides less important novels by Trol- 
lope and others. More recently the publication of fiction 
has been exceptional. The (i8go) Reviezv of Revieivs 
Index said of the Fortnightly: 

" While disclaiming ' party ' or ' editorial consistency,' and pro- 
claiming that its pages were open to all views, the Fortnightly 
seldom included the orthodox among its contributors. The arti- 
cles which startled people and made small earthquakes beneath 



INTRODUCTION xxxv 

the crust of conventional orthodoxy, political and religious, usually 
appeared in the Fortnightly. It was here that Professor Huxley 
seemed to foreshadow the expulsion of the spiritual from the 
world, by his paper on ' The Physical Basis of Life,' and that 
Professor Tyndall propounded his famous suggestion for the 
establishment of a prayerless union or hospital as a scientific 
method for testing the therapeutic value of prayer. Mr. Frederic 
Harrison chanted in its pages the praises of the Commune, and 
prepared the old ladies of both sexes for the imminent advent 
of an English Terror by his plea for Trade Unionism. It was 
in the Fortnightly also that Air. Chamberlain was introduced to 
the world, when he was permitted to explain his proposals for 
Free Labour, Free Land, Free Education, and Free Church. Mr. 
Morley's papers on the heroes and saints (Heaven save the 
mark!) of the French Revolution appeared here, and every month 
in an editorial survey he summed up the leading features of the 
progress of the world." 

Since Mr. Morley's retirement in 1883, the editors of 
the Fortnightly have been j\Ir. T. H. S. Escott (1883-86), 
]\Ir. Frank Harris (1886-94) and the present incumbent, 
Mr. W. L. Courtney. 

The Fortnightly was not long permitted to enjoy un- 
disputed possession of the field. In 1866, while it was 
still published semi-monthly, the Contemporary Review 
was launched. Alexander Strahan, the publisher, selected 
Dean Alford as its editor in order to assure a more re- 
served tone than that of its popular predecessor. Al- 
though Liberal in politics, like the Fortnightly, it assumed 
a very different and apparently corrective attitude in re- 
ligious matters. Most of its articles for many years were 
upon theological subjects and were written by scholars 
comparatively unknown to the public. The gradual 
change in policy furthered by its later editors, especially 
Mr. James Knowles and Mr. Percy Bunting has brought 
the Contemporary nearer to the general type of popular 
monthlies. Its principles seem to tend toward " broad 
evangelical, semi-socialistic Liberalism." 



xxxviii INTRODUCTION 

philosophical researches, scientific inventions, sketches of 
society, biographical memoirs, essays on fine arts, and 
miscellaneous articles on drama, music and literary intelli- 
gence." Thus Jerdan followed his friend Canning's 
advice by avoiding " politics and polemics " and by aim- 
ing to present " a clear and instructive picture of the 
moral and literary improvement of the times, and a com- 
plete and authentic chronological literary record for gen- 
eral reference." He secured the services of Crabbe, Barry 
Cornwall, Maginn, Campbell, Mrs. Hemans and others: 
with such an array of contributors he was able to crush 
the several rival weeklies that soon entered the field. 

Toward the end of its prosperous first decade, how- 
ever, the misfortunes of the Literary Gazette began. 
Colburn's publications had been roughly handled in its 
pages and he accordingly aided James Silk Buckingham 
in founding the Athenccum. The first number appeared 
on January 2, 1828, as an evident rival of the older 
weekly. For a time the new venture w^as on the verge 
of failure and the proprietors actually offered to sell it 
to Jerdan. Within half a year Buckingham was suc- 
ceeded by John Sterling as editor. Frederic Denison 
Maurice's friends purchased the Literary Chronicle and 
Weekly Rcvieiv (begun 1819) and merged it with the 
Athcncciim in July, 1828. For a year Sterling and 
Maurice contributed some of the most brilliant critical 
articles that have appeared in its pages. The working 
editor at that time was Henry Stebbing who had been 
associated with the Athencemn since its inception and who 
was the only survivor* of the original staff when the 
semi-centennial number was published on January 5, 1878. 

Even the high standards set by Maurice and Sterling 

* See his letter in Athencuum, January 19, 1878. See also " Oui 
Seventieth Birthday," Athenaum, January i, 1898. 



INTRODUCTION xxxix 

failed to win public favor. The crisis came about the 
middle of 1830 when Charles Went worth Dilke became 
" supreme editor," enlisted Lamb, George Darley, Barry 
Cornwall and others on his staff, and reduced the price of 
the Athcncruui from eightpence to fourpence. The appar- 
ent folly of reducing the price and increasing the ex- 
penses did not lead to the generally prophesied collapse ; 
this first experiment in modern methods resulted in the 
rapid growth of the Afhcnccitiii's circulation, to the serious 
detriment of the Literary Gazette. Jerdan tried to stem 
the tide by publishing lampoons on the dullness of Dilke's 
paper; but when the Atheiicciim was enlarged in 1835 
from sixteen to twenty-four pages Dilke's triumph was 
evident. The Literary Gazette was compelled to reduce 
its price to fourpence in its effort to regain the lost sub- 
scriptions. Dilke labored earnestly to improve his paper 
and when, in 1846, he felt that it was established on a 
firm basis, he made Thomas Kibble Hervey editor and 
devoted his own time to furthering his journalistic enter- 
prises. However, he continued to contribute to the 
weekly ; his valuable articles on Junius and Pope together 
with several others were afterwards reprinted as Papers 
of a Critic. 

Jerdan withdrew from the Literary Gazette in 1850. 
The hopeless struggle with the Athenceum, involving a 
third reduction in price to threepence, lasted until 1862, 
when the Gazette was incorporated with the Parthenon 
and came to an end during the following year. Hervey 
edited the Athenceum until 1853 when ill-health necessi- 
tated his resignation. The later editors include William 
Hepworth Dixon, Norman MacColl and at present Mr. 
Vernon Rendall. After the withdrawal of Dixon in 1869 
a reformation in the staff and management of the Athe- 
nceum took place. 



xl INTRODUCTION 

" Some old writers were parted with, and a great many fresh 
contributors were found. While special departments, such as 
science, art, music and the drama, were of necessity entrusted to 
regular hands, indeed, the reviewing of books, now more than 
ever the principal business of ' The Athenaeum,' was distributed 
over a very large staff, the plan being to assign each work to a 
writer familiar with its subject and competent to deal with it 
intelligently, but rigidly to exclude personal favouritism or 
prejudice, and to secure as much impartiality as possible. The 
rule of anonymity has been more carefully observed in ' The 
Athenaeum ' than in most other papers. Its authority as a liter- 
ary censor is not lessened, however, and is in some respects in- 
creased, by the fact that the paper itself, and not any particular 
critic of great or small account, is responsible for the verdicts 
passed in its columns." (Fox Bourne.) 

Half a year after the inception of the Athenceum, the 
first number of the Spectator was issued (July 6, 1828) 
by Robert Stephen Rintoul, an experienced journalist who 
had launched the ill-fated semi-political Atlas two years 
before and therefore decided to confine his new venture 
to literary and social topics. The political excitement of 
the time soon aroused Rintoul's interest, and he under- 
took the advocacy of the Reform Bill with all possible 
ardor. From him emanated the famous battle-cry : 
" The Bill, the whole Bill, and nothing but the Bill." He 
conducted the Spectator with great skill until 1858, when 
he sold it two months before his death. Although he 
wrote little for its pages, Rintoul made the Spectator a 
power in furthering all reforms. The literary standard, 
while somewhat obscured for a time by its politics, was 
high. In 1861 the Spectator passed into the hands of Mr. 
Meredith Townsend who sold a half share to the late 
Richard Holt Hutton with the understanding that they 
should act as political and literary editors respectively. 
During the four years of the American Civil War, the 
Spectator espoused the cause of the North and was con- 



INTRODUCTION xli 

sequently unpopular ; but tlie outcome turned the senti- 
ment in England and likewise the fortunes of the Spec- 
tator. Hutton's contributions included his most memor- 
able utterances upon theological and literary subjects. In 
the midst of religious controversy he was able to discuss 
delicate questions without giving offense, to enlist all 
parties by refraining from expressed allegiance to one. 
The Spectator of Hutton's day was, in Mrs. Oliphant's 
opinion, " specially distinguished by the thoughtful tone 
of its writing, the almost Quixotic fairness of its judg- 
ments, and the profoundly religious spirit which pervades 
its more serious articles." Hutton retired shortly before 
his death in 1897. The present editor is Mr. J. St. Loe 
Strachey. 

The Saturday Reviezv was established in November, 
1855, by A. J. Beresford Hope. Its first editor was 
John Douglass Cook, who had indexed the early volumes 
of the Quarterly for Murray and had gained his jour- 
nalistic experience with the Times and the Morning 
Chronicle. Though possessed of no great personal ability, 
Cook had the useful editorial faculty of recognizing 
talent, and consequently gathered about himself the most 
promising writers of the younger generation, including, 
among others, Robert Talbot Cecil, the late Lord Salis- 
bury. The Saturday Review at once became the most 
influential and most energetic of the weekly papers. Its 
politics, independent at first, later assumed a pronounced 
Conservative complexion. Cook remained editor until 
his death (1868) when he was succeeded by his assistant, 
Philip Harwood. Since the latter's retirement in 1883 
the more recent editors include ^Ir. Walter H. Pollock, 
Mr. Frank Harris and the present incumbent, Mr. Harold 
Hodge. Professor Saintsbury wrote of the Saturday 
Reviezv: 



xlii INTRODUCTION 

" Its staff was, as a rule, recruited from the two Universities 
(though there was no kind of exckision for the unmatriculated ; 
as a matter of fact, neither of its first two editors was a son 
either of Oxford or Cambridge), and it always insisted on the 
necessity of classical culture. ... It observed, for perhaps a 
longer time than any other paper, the salutary principles of 
anonymity (real as well as ostensible) in regard to the author- 
ship of particular articles; and those who knew were constantly 
amused at the public mistakes on this subject." 

Such " salutary principles of anonymity " were not 
observed by the Academy, a Monthly Record of Litera- 
ture, Learning, Science and Art, which began to appear 
in October, 1869, and was published for a short time by 
John Murray, Its founder, Dr. Charles E, Appleton, 
edited the Academy until his death in 1879. All the 
leading articles bore the authors' signatures, and, follow- 
ing the example of the more ambitious monthlies, Dr. 
Appleton secured the best known writers as contributors. 
The first number opened with an interesting unpublished 
letter of Lord Byron's ; its literary articles were by 
Matthew Arnold, Gustave Masson and Mr. Sidney Colvin, 
theology was representd by the Rev. T. K. Cheyne and J. 
B. Lightfoot (later Bishop of Durham), science by Thomas 
Huxley and Sir John Lubbock (now Lord Avebury), 
and classical learning by Mark Pattison and John Con- 
ington. This remarkable array of names did not di- 
minish in subsequent numbers. Besides those mentioned 
Mr. W. M. Rossetti, Max Mtiller, G. Maspero, J. A. 
Symonds, F. T. Palgrave and others contributed to the 
first volume. Later such names as William Morris, John 
Tyndall, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Walter Pater and Robert 
Louis Stevenson appeared in its pages. 

In spite of its brilliant program, the size of the Acad- 
emy, even at its price of sixpence, was too slight to rank 
as a monthly. After four years' experience, first as a 



INTRODUCTION xliii 

monthly, then as a fortnightly, it became and has re- 
mained a weekly. The editorial succession since the 
death of Dr. Appleton has been C. E. Doble (1879-81) ; 
Mr. James Sutherland Cotton (1881-96) ; Mr. C. Lewis 
Hind (1896-1903) ; and Mr. W. Teignmouth Shore. The 
issue of November 7, 1896, announced Mr. Cotton's re- 
tirement and the inauguration of a new policy, which, in 
addition to technical improvements, promised the issue 
of occasional supplements of a purely academic and edu- 
cational character, and the beginning of the series of 
Academy Portraits of men of letters. At the same time 
the publication of signed articles was abolished and the 
Academy remained anonymous until the recent editorial 
change. A new departure in October, 1898, made the 
Academy an illustrated paper — the most attractive though 
not the most authoritative of the weeklies. It has de- 
parted widely from the set traditions of Dr. Appleton, 
but most readers will agree that the departure has been 
justified by the needs of the hour. There is small satis- 
faction in reading a one-page review from the pen of an 
Arnold or a Pater; we feel that such authorities should 
express themselves at length in the pages of the literary 
monthlies ; that the reader of the weekly should be con- 
tent with the anonymous (and less expensive) review 
written by the stafif-critic. Whatever the personal bias, it 
is at least certain that under present conditions the Acad- 
emy appeals more generally to the popular taste. Its 
recent absorption of a younger periodical is indicated in 
the compounding of its title into the Academy and Litera- 
ture — a change that does not commend itself on abstract 
grounds of literary fitness and tradition. 

A consideration of periodicals of the Tatler, Spectator 
and Ra)iiblcr class evidently lies beyond our present 
purpose ; though Addison's papers on Paradise Lost and 



xliv INTRODUCTION 

similar articles show an occasional critical intent. The 
magazines, however, have in various instances shown such 
an extensive interest in matters literary that a brief 
account of their development will not be amiss. The 
primary distinction between the review and the magazine 
is well understood ; the former criticizes, the latter en- 
tertains. Hence fiction, poetry and essays are better 
adapted than book-reviews to the needs of the literary 
magazine. As already stated, Peter Alotteux's Gentle- 
man's Journal (1692-94) probably deserves recognition 
as the first English magazine, though its brief career is 
forgotten in the honor accorded to the Gentleman's 
Magazine, established in 1731 by Edward Cave and 
which, still under the editorship of " Sylvanus Urban, 
Gentleman," is now approaching its three hundredth vol- 
ume. In the early days its lists of births, deaths, mar- 
riages, bankrupts, events, etc., must have made it a use- 
ful summary for the public. In literature it printed 
merely a " Register of New Books " without comment of 
any sort. It is exasperating to find such books as Pamela 
or Tom Jones listed among " New Publications " without 
a word of criticism or commendation. We could spare 
whole reams of pages devoted to " Army Promotions " 
and " Monthly Chronicle " for a few lines of literary 
review. 

Although the booksellers refused to aid Cave in estab- 
lishing his magazine, the demonstration of its success 
brought forth numerous rivals. As they all followed 
Cave's precedent in ignoring literary criticism, it will 
suffice to mention merely the names of the London Maga- 
zine (1732-79) ; the Scots Magazine (i 739-181 7), con- 
tinued as the Edinburgh Magazine until 1826; the Ufii- 
versal Magazine (i 743-181 5) ; the British Magazine 
(1746-50) ; the Royal Magazine (1759-71) ; and finally 



INTRODUCTION xlv 

the British Magazine, or Monthly Repository for Gentle- 
men and Ladies (1760-67) edited by Tobias Smollett, 
who published his Sir Launeelot Greaves in its pages — 
perhaps the first instance of the serial publication of 
fiction. Goldsmith wrote some of his most interesting 
essays for Smollett's magazine. 

An important addition to the ranks was the Monthly 
Magazine begun in 1796 by Sir Richard Phillips under 
the editorship of John Aikin. The principal contributor 
was William Taylor of Norwich who, during a period of 
thirty years, supplied to the Monthly Magazine and other 
periodicals a series of 1,750 articles of remarkable quality. 
His contributions gave the Magazine standing as a liter- 
ary review. Hazlitt accorded to Taylor the honor of 
writing the first reviews in the style afterwards adopted 
by the Edinburgh Reviewers, which established their repu- 
tations as original and impartial critics. He is remem- 
bered to-day as the author of an unread Historie Survey 
of German Poetry which was vigorously assailed by Car- 
lyle in the Edinburgh Review. The New Monthly Maga- 
zine was started in 1814 by Henry Colburn and Frederick 
Shoberl in opposition to Phillips' magazine. Its first 
editors were Dr. Watkins and Alaric A. Watts. At a 
later time Campbell, Bulwer, Theodore Hook and Harri- 
son Ainsworth successively assumed charge. Under such 
capable direction the magazine naturally won a promi- 
nent place among the periodicals of the day. During its 
later years the New Monthly was obscured by more 
ambitious ventures and came to an inglorious end in 
1875 — thirty-two years after the suspension of Phillips' 
Monthly Magazine. 

A most significant event in the history of the magazine 
was the founding of the Edinburgh Monthly Magazine in 
April, 181 7, by William Blackwood. The new magazine 



xlvi INTRODUCTION 

was projected to counteract the influence of the Edin- 
burgh Review, but under its first editors, James Cleghorn 
and Thomas Pringle, it failed to win favor. After six 
numbers were issued, a final disagreement between Black- 
wood and the editors resulted in the withdrawal of the 
latter. The name of the monthly was changed to Black- 
wood's Edinburgh Magadne — popularly Blackwood's or 
" Maga " — and henceforth until his death Blackwood was 
his own editor. John Wilson (Christopher North) and 
John Gibson Lockhart, the most important of the early 
contributors to Blackwood's, published in that famous 
seventh number the clever Chaldce Manuscript — an au- 
dacious satire upon the original editors, the rival publisher 
Constable, the Edinburgh Review and various literary 
personages under a thinly veiled allegory in apocalyptic 
style. It at once attracted wide attention (including a 
costly action for libel within a fortnight) and was sup- 
pressed in the second impression of the number. The 
same number of Blackzvood's set the precedent for the 
subsequent critical vituperation that made the magazine 
notorious. It contained an abusive article on Coleridge's 
Biographia Litcraria and the first of a series of virulent 
attacks on " The Cockney School of Poetry." Much of 
the literary criticism in the first few volumes is inexcus- 
ably brutal ; fortunately, Blackwood's soon became less 
rampant in its critical outbursts. The cooperation of 
James Hogg and the ill-fated Maginn introduced new 
articles of varied interest, particularly the witty letters and 
the parodies of " Ensign O'Doherty." Wilson's Noctes 
Arnbrosiance became a characteristic feature of Black- 
wood's; John Gait and Susan Ferrier w^on popularity 
among the novel readers of the day ; and in the trenchant 
literary criticism of Lockhart, Wilson, Hogg and their 
confreres an equally high standard was maintained. 



INTRODUCTION xlvii 

After the death of the elder Blackwood in 1834, the 
management of the magazine passed to his sons suc- 
cessively. John Blackwood, the sixth son, enjoyed 
the distinction of " discovering " George Eliot and be- 
ginning, by the publication of her Scenes of Clerical Life 
in 1857, a relationship that was both pleasant and profit- 
able to the firm. A few years earlier appeared the first 
contributions of another remarkable literary woman — Mrs. 
Margaret Oliphant, whose association with Blackwood's 
lasted over forty years. Her history of the house of 
Blackwood was published in the year of her death 
(1897). 

Blackzvood's is still a strong conservative organ. The 
already quoted Index of the Rcviczv of Rcz'iezvs says of 
it : " With a rare consistency it has contrived to appear 
for over three score years and ten as a spirited and defiant 
advocate of all those who are at least five years behind 
their time. Sometimes Blackzvood is fifty years in the 
rear, but that is a detail of circumstance. Five or fifty, 
it does not matter, so long as it is well in the rear." Such 
gentle sarcasm merely emphasizes the fact that Black- 
zi'ood's has always aimed to be more than a magazine of 
belles-lettres. The publishers celebrated the appearance 
of the one thousandth number in February, 1899, by 
almost doubling its size to a volume of three hundred 
pages, including a latter-day addition to the Noctes 
Amhrosiance and other features. 

An important though short-lived venture was the Lon- 
don Magazine, begun in January, 1820, under the editor- 
ship of John Scott. By its editorial assaults upon the 
Blackzvood criticisms of the " Cockney School," it became 
the recognized champion of that loosely defined coterie. 
The initial attack in the May number was further empha- 
sized bv more vigorous articles in November and Decem- 



xlviii INTRODUCTION 

ber of 1820, and January, 182 1. Lockhart, who was the 
recipient of the worst abuse, demanded of Scott an 
apology or a hostile meeting. The outcome of the con- 
troversy was a duel on February i6th between Scott and 
Lockhart's intimate friend, Jonathan Henry Christie. 
Scott was mortally wounded, and died within a fortnight ; 
the verdict of wilful murder brought against Christie and 
his second at the inquest resulted in their trial and 
acquittal at the old Bailey two months later. It would 
have been well for the London Magazine and for litera- 
ture in general if that unfortunate duel could have been 
prevented or at least diverted into such a ludicrous affair 
as the meeting between Jeffrey and Tom Moore in 
1806. 

The most famous contributions to the London Maga- 
zine during Scott's regime were Lamb's Essays of Elia. 
Those charming productions, now ranked among our 
dearly treasured classics, were not received at first with 
universal approbation. The long and justly forgotten 
Alaric A. Watts said of them : " Charles Lamb delivers 
himself with infinite pain and labour of a silly piece of 
trifling, every month, in this Magazine, under the signa- 
ture of Elia. It is the curse of the Cockney School that, 
with all their desire to appear exceedingly off-hand and 
ready with all they have to say, they are constrained to 
elaborate every sentence, as though the web were woven 
from their own bowels. Charles Lamb says he can make 
no way in an article under at least a week." In July, 
1 82 1, the London Magazine was purchased by Taylor and 
Hessey. Although Thomas Hood was made working- 
editor, the Blackzvood idea of retaining editorial super- 
vision in the firm was followed. Within a few months 
De Quincey contributed his Confessions of an English 
Opium-Eater — the most famous of all the articles that 



INTRODUCTION xlix 

appeared in the magazine. Lamb* and De Quincey con- 
tinued to write for the magazine for several years. Other 
contributors, especially of literary criticism, were Barry 
Cornwall, Carlyle, Hazlitt, Henry Gary and, toward the 
end, Walter Savage Landor. The magazine became less 
conspicuous after 1824 and dragged out an obscure ex- 
istence until 1829; but it is probable that no other period- 
ical achieved the standard of purely literary excellence 
represented by the London Magazine during the first five 
years of its existence. 

In February, 1830, James Fraser published the first 
number of Eraser's Magazine for Toivn and Country. 
The magazine was not named after the publisher but after 
its sponsor, Hugh Fraser, a " briefless barrister " and 
man about town. The latter enlisted the aid of Maginn 
who had severed his connection with Blackzvood's in 1828. 
In general, Frascr's was modelled upon Blackwood's; but 
a unique and popular feature was the publication of the 
" Gallery of Illustrious Literary Characters " between 
1830-38. This famous series of eighty-one caricature 
portraits chiefly by Daniel Maclise, with letter-press by 
IMaginn, has been made accessible to present-day readers 
in \\'illiam Bates' Maclise Portrait Gallery (1883) where 
much illustrative material has been added to the original 
articles. It is evident that the literary standard of 
Eraser's soon equalled and possibly surpassed that of 
Blackwood's. Among its writers were Carlyle (who con- 
tributed a critique to the first number, published Sartor 
Resartns in its pages, 1833-35, and, as late as 1875, his 
Early Kings of Norway), Thackeray, Father Prout and 
Thomas Love Peacock. Maclise's plate of " The Fraser- 

* Mr. Bertram Dobell in his Side-Lights on Charles Lamb (1903) 
directs attention to some hitherto unknown articles of Lamb's in 
the London Magazine. 



1 INTRODUCTION 

ians " also includes Allan Cunningham, Theodore Hook, 
William Jerdan, Lockhart, Hogg, Coleridge, Southey and 
several others. It is unlikely that all of them wrote much 
for Fraser's; but the staff was undoubtedly a brilliant 
assemblage. James Anthony Froude became editor in 
i860 and was assisted for a time by Charles Kingsley and 
Sir Theodore Martin. He was succeeded by his sub- 
editor, William Allingham, during whose administration 
(1874-79) the fortunes of Fraser's suffered a decline. 
The gradual failure was due to the competition of ^he 
new shilling magazines rather than to incompetence on 
the part of the editor. The end came in October, 1882, 
when Fraser's was succeeded by Longman's Magazine 
which is still in progress. 

The magazines established soon after Fraser's fol- 
lowed for the most part a policy that demands for them 
mere passing mention in the present connection. Literary 
criticism and reviews were largely abandoned in favor of 
lighter and more entertaining material. The Dublin Uni- 
versity Magazine (1833-80) and Tait's Edinburgh Maga- 
zine (1832-61) best represent the transitional stage. 
During its early history, the latter employed prominent 
contributors, who gave it an important position. Such 
magazines as the Metropolitan (1831-50) and Bentley's 
Miscellany (1837-68) set the standards for similar 
periodicals since that time. Charles Dickens' experience 
with Bentley's led to the publication pi his weeklies, 
Household Words (1850 to date) and All the Year Round 
(1859), which was incorporated in 1895 with the former. 
Macmillan's Magazine, first of the popular shilling 
monthlies, began in 1859 ^^<^ was soon followed by 
Thackeray's Cornhill Magazine (i860) and Temple Bar 
(i860). All of these magazines are still in progress. 
The occasional publication of an article by a literary critic 



INTRODUCTION li 

hardly justifies their inclusion within the category of 
critical reviews, as their essential purpose is to instruct 
and entertain, rather than to sit in judgment upon con- 
temporary letters. 

There are in course of publication to-day numerous 
literary periodicals of varying scope and importance 
that have not even been mentioned by title in our hasty 
survey. Enough has been said, however, to give some 
idea of the magnitude of the field, and to show that most 
of the great names of modern English literature have been 
more or less closely associated with the history of the 
literary reviews. Those reviews have usually sought to 
foster all that is highest and best in our intellectual de- 
velopment ; and although English literary criticism has 
been, on the whole, less convincing, less brilliant and less 
authoritative than that of France, it has during the past 
century set a fairly high standard of excellence. It seems 
difficult to understand why the literary conditions in Eng- 
land, instead of developing critics like Sainte-Beuve, 
Gaston Paris, Brunetiere and others whose utterances 
redound to the lasting glory of French criticism, should 
be steadily tending toward a lower and less influential 
level. Mr. Churton Collins in his pessimistic discussion 
of " The Present Functions of Criticism " deplores the 
spirit of tolerance and charity manifested toward the 
mediocre productions of contemporary writers ; he at- 
tributes the degradation of criticism to the lack of critical 
standards and principles, and indirectly to the neglect of 
the study of literature at the English Universities. The 
plea for an English Academy has been made at different 
times and with different ends in view, but under modern 
conditions such an institution would hardly solve the 
problem. Mr. Collins shows how the intellectual aris- 
tocracy of the past has been superseded by the present 



lii INTRODUCTION 

omnivorous reading-public afflicted with a perpetual crav- 
ing for literary novelty. The inevitable rapidity of pro- 
duction results in a deluge of poor books which are foisted 
upon readers by a " detestable system of mutual puffery." 
This condition of affairs naturally offers few opportunities 
for the development of critical ideals ; but it hardly applies 
to the incorruptible reviews of recognized standing. The 
reasons for the lack of authority in modern English criti- 
cism are more deeply grounded in an inherent objection to 
the restraint imposed upon an artist by artificial canons of 
taste, and in a well-founded impression that many of the 
greatest literary achievements evince a violation of such 
canons. 

It is not to be inferred that criticism is thereby dis- 
dained and disregarded. The critical dicta of a Dryden 
or a Johnson, a Coleridge or a Hazlitt, and, more recently, 
an Arnold or a Pater, are valued and studied because they 
emphasize the vital elements essential to the proper appre- 
ciation of a literary product ; and, moreover, because such 
critics, in transcending the limitations of their kind, estab- 
lish higher and juster standards for the criticism of the 
future. On the other hand, the great majority of critical 
utterances must necessarily be ephemeral ; they may exert 
considerable contemporary influence, but are usually for- 
gotten long before the works that called them forth. 
Unless this criticism is more than a perfunctory examina- 
tion of the merits and defects of the work under con- 
sideration, it cannot endure beyond its own brief day. 

Several fruitless attempts have been made to reduce 
criticism to an exact science, which, quite disregarding 
the factor of personal taste, could refer all literature to a 
more or less fixed and arbitrary set of critical principles. 
The champions of this objective criticism point to the 
occasionally ludicrous divergence of the views expressed 



INTRODUCTION liii 

in criticism of certain poets or novelists, and insist that 
there is no occasion for such a bewildering difference of 
opinion. They seem to forget that the criticism which we 
esteem most highly at all times is the subjective criticism 
in which the personality of a competent and sincere critic 
is manifest. Literature, like music, painting and the other 
arts, has its own laws of technique — fundamental canons 
that must be observed in the successful pursuit of the art ; 
but at a certain point difference of opinion is not only 
possible but profitable. The critics who would unite in 
condemning a thirteen-line sonnet or a ten-act tragedy 
could not be expected to agree on the relative merits of 
Milton's and Wordsworth's sonnets. Unanimity of opin- 
ion is as impossible and undesirable concerning the poetic 
achievement of Browning and Whitman as it is concern- 
ing the music of Brahms and Wagner, or the painting of 
Turner and Whistler. Great artists who have taken 
liberties with traditions and precedents have done much 
to prevent the critics from falling into a state of self- 
complacency over their scientific methods and formulas. 

The most helpful form of criticism is the interpretative 
variety , not necessarily the laudatory " appreciation " that 
is so popular in our day, but an honest effort to under- 
stand and elucidate the intention of the writer. The 
proper exercise of this art occasionally demands rare quali- 
fications on the part of the critic ; at the same time it 
adds dignity to his calling and value to his utterance. It 
serves to dispel the popular conception of a critic as a 
disappointed litterateur who begrudges his more brilliant 
fellow craftsmen their success and who dogs their 
triumphs with his ill-tempered snarling. Interpretative 
criticism needs few rules and no system ; yet it serves a 
noble purpose as a guide and monitor for subsequent liter- 
ary effort. 



liv INTRODUCTION 

The question of anonymous criticism has occasioned 
much thoughtful discussion. In former times anonymitv 
was often a shield for the slanderer who saw fit to 
abuse and assail his victim with the rancorous outburst of 
his malice; but it is also clear that the earlier reviewers 
were mere literary hacks whose names would have given 
no weight to the critique and hence could be omitted with- 
out much loss. The authorship of important Edinburgh 
and Quarterly"^ articles in the days of their greatness was 
usually an open secret. Later periodicals, like the Fort- 
nightly and the Academy found it a profitable advertise- 
ment to publish the signatures of their eminent critics. 
The tendency of the present day is largely in favor of 
anonymity; no longer as a cover for the dispensation of 
malicious vituperation, but as a necessary safe-guard for 
the unbiased and untrammeled exercise of the critical 
function. Certain abuses of the privilege are inevitable. 
Mr. Sidney Colvin in looking over the criticisms of Mr. 
Stephen Phillips' poetry recently discovered in three 
periodicals convincing parallels that led Mr. Arthur 
Symons to confess to the authorship of all three critiques. 
The average reader would in most cases be strongly in- 
fluenced by the united verdict of the critics of the Satur- 
day Reviczv, the Athenmim and the Quarterly Revieur; 
in this instance his convictions would undoubtedly be 
rudely shattered when he learned the truth. Under such 
conditions anonymous criticism is a menace, not an aid 
to the reader's judgment. 

In conclusion, it must be borne in mind that criticism 
is not an end but a means to an end. All the literary 



* In July, 1902, the Quarterly Reviczv published its first signed 
article — the widely-discussed paper on Charles Dickens by Mr. Alger- 
non Charles Swinburne. Since then several other noteworthy 
articles have appeared over the authors' signatures. 



INTRODUCTION Iv 

criticism ever uttered would be useless as such if it did 
not evince a desire to further the development of literary 
art. The Iliad and the CEdipns were written long before 
Aristotle's Poetics, and it is not likely that either Homer 
or Sophocles would have been a greater poet if he could 
have read the Stagirite's treatise. Yet the Poetics, as a 
summary of the essential features of that art, served an 
important purpose in later ages and exerted far-reaching 
influences. Criticism in all ages has necessarily been of 
less importance than art itself — it guides and suggests, but 
cannot create. Literary history shows that true criticism 
must be in conformity with the spirit of the age ; it cannot 
oppose the trend of intelligent opinion. It may praise, 
censure, advise, interpret — but it will always remain sub- 
servient to the art that called it forth. There is no reason 
to believe that criticism can ever be established in the 
English-speaking world upon a basis that will subject 
to an arbitrary and irrevocable ruling the form and spirit 
of the artist's message to mankind. 



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Tedder. 

Barrow, Sir John. Autobiography. London, 1847. 

Bourne, H. R. Fox. English Newspapers. Chapters in the His- 
tory of Journalism. 2 vols. 8vo. London, 1887. 

Cockburn, Lord. Life of Lord Jeffrey. With a Selection from 
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Copinger, W. A. On the Authorship of the first Hundred Num- 
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Gates, Lewis E. Francis Jeffrey. In Three Studies in Literature. 
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Homer, Leonard. Memoirs and Correspondence of Francis Hor- 
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Jerdan, William. Autobiography. With his Literary, Political, 
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Laughton, John Knox. Memoirs of the Life and Correspondence 
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Oliphant, Mrs. M. 0. W,, and Porter, Mrs. Gerald. William Black- 
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Ivi 



BIBLIOGRAPHY Ivii 

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Correspondence of the late John Murray, etc. 2 vols. 8vo. 

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Last Century Magazines. (By T. H.) Frascr's Magazine, XCIV 

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IV, p. 161. 



EARLY REVIEWS OF ENGLISH POETS 



Thomas Gray 

ODES. ^3' Mr. Gray. 4to. is. Dodsley. 

As this publication seems designed for those who have 
formed their taste by the models of antiquity, the gener- 
ality of Readers cannot be supposed adequate Judges of 
its merit ; nor will the Poet, it is presumed, be greatly dis- 
appointed if he finds them backward in commending a 
performance not entirely suited to their apprehensions. 
We cannot, however, without some regret behold those 
talents so capable of giving pleasure to all, exerted in 
efforts that, at best, can amuse only the few ; we cannot 
behold this rising Poet seeking fame among the learned, 
without hinting to him the same advice that Isocrates used 
to give his Scholars, Stitdy the People. This study it is 
that has conducted the great Masters of antiquity up to 
immortality. Pindar himself, of whom our modern Lyrist 
is an imitator, appears entirely guided by it. He adapted 
his works exactly to the dispositions of his countrymen. 
Irregular [,] enthusiastic, and quick in transition, — he wrote 
for a people inconstant, of warm imaginations and ex- 
quisite sensibility. He chose the most popular subjects, 
and all his allusions are to customs well known, in his 
day, to the meanest person.* 



* The best Odes of Pindar are said to be those which have been 
destroyed by time ; and even they were seldom recited among the 
Greeks, without the adventitious ornaments of music and dancing. 
Our Lyric Odes are seldom set off with these advantages, which, 
trifling as they seem, have alone given immortality to the works of 
Quinault. 

4 I 



2 THE MONTHLY REVIEW 

His English Imitator wants those advantages. He 
speaks to a people not easily impressed with new ideas ; 
extremely tenacious of the old ; with difficulty warmed ; 
and as slowly cooling again. — How unsuited then to our 
national character is that species of poetry which rises 
upon us with unexpected flights ! Where we must hastily 
catch the thought, or it flies from us ; and, in short, where 
the Reader must largely partake of the Poet's enthusiasm, 
in order to taste his beauties. To carry the parallel a little 
farther; the Greek Poet wrote in a language the most 
proper that can be imagined for this species of composi- 
tion ; lofty, harmonious, and never needing rhyme to 
heighten the numbers. But, for us, several unsuccessful 
experiments seem to prove that the English cannot have 
Odes in blank Verse ; while, on the other hand, a natural 
imperfection attends those which are composed in irreg- 
ular rhymes : — the similar sound often recurring where it 
is not expected, and not being found where it is, creates 
no small confusion to the Reader, — who, as we have not 
seldom observed, beginning in all the solemnity of poetic 
elocution, is by frequent disappointments of the rhyme, 
at last obliged to drawl out the uncomplying numbers into 
disagreeable prose. 

It is, by no means, our design to detract from the merit 
of our Author's present attempt : we would only inti- 
mate, that an English Poet, — one whom the Muse has 
mark'd for her ozvn, could produce a more luxuriant bloom 
of flowers, by cultivating such as are natives of the soil, 
than by endeavouring to force the exotics of another 
climate : or, to speak without a metaphor, such a genius 
as Mr. Gray might give greater pleasure, and acquire a 
larger portion of fame, if, instead of being an imitator, he 
did justice to his talents, and ventured to be more an origi- 
nal. These two Odes, it must be confessed, breath [e] 



GRAY'S ODES 3 

much of the spirit of Rndar, but then they have caught the 
seeming obscurity, the sudden transition, and hazardous 
epithet, of his mighty master ; all which, though evidently 
intended for beauties, will, probably, be regarded as 
blemishes, by the generality of his Readers. In short, 
they are in some measure, a representation of what Pindar 
now appears to be, though perhaps, not what he appeared 
to the States of Greece, when they rivalled each other in 
his applause, and when Pan himself was seen dancing 
to his melody. 

In conformity to the antients, these Odes consist of the 
Strophe, Antistrophe, and Epodc, which, in each Ode, are 
thrice repeated. The Strophes have a correspondent re- 
semblance in their str[u]cture and numbers : and the Anti- 
strophe and Epode also bear the same similitude. The 
Poet seems, in the first Ode particularly, to design the 
Epode as a complete air to the Strophe and Antistrophe, 
which have more the appearance of Recitative. There 
was a necessity for these divisions among the antients, for 
they served as directions to the dancer and musician ; but 
we see no reason why they should be continued among the 
moderns ; for, instead of assisting, they will but perplex 
the Musician, as our music requires a more frequent 
transition from the Air to the Recitative than could agree 
with the simplicity of the antients. 

The first of these Poems celebrates the Lyric Muse. It 
seems the most laboured performance of the two, but yet 
we think its merit is not equal to that of the second. It 
seems to want that regularity of plan upon which the 
second is founded ; and though it abounds with images 
that strike, yet, unlike the second, it contains none that are 
affecting. 

In the second Antistrophe the Bard thus marks the 
progress of Poetry. 



4 THE MONTHLY REVIEW 

II. [2.] 

In climes beyond the solar road, 

Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam. 

The Muse has broke the twilight-gloom 

To cheer the shivering natives dull abode. 

And oft beneath the od'rous shade 

Of Chili's boundless forests laid, 

She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat, 

In loose numbers wildly sweet 

Their feather-cinctured Chiefs, and dusky loves. 

Her track, where'er the Goddess roves, 

Glory pursue, and generous shame, 

Th' unconquerable Mind, and Freedom's holy flame. 

There is great spirit in the irregularity of the numbers 
towards the conclusion of the foregoing stanza. 

[II, 3, and III, 2, of The Progress of Poesy are quoted without 
comment.] 

The second ' Ode is founded on a tradition current in 
'Wales, that Edward the first, when he compleated the con- 
' quest of that country, ordered all the Bards that fell into 
'his hands to be put to death.' The Author seems to have 
taken the hint of this subject from the fifteenth Ode of the 
first book of Horace. Our Poet introduces the only sur- 
viving Bard of that country in concert with the spirits of 
his murdered brethren, as prophetically denouncing woes 
upon the Conqueror and his posterity. The circum- 
stances of grief and horror in which the Bard is repre- 
sented, those of terror in the preparation of the votive 
web, and the mystic obscurity with which the prophecies 
are delivered, will give as much pleasure to those who 
relish this species of composition, as anything that has 
hitherto appeared in our language, the Odes of Dryden 
himself not excepted. 

[I, 2, I, 3, part of II, I, and the conclusion of The Bard are 
quoted.] — The Monthly Review. 



Oliver Goldsmith 

TJie Traveller, or a Prospect of Society. A Poem. In- 
scribed to the Rev. Mr. Henry Goldsmith. By Oliver 
Goldsmith, M.B. 4to. Pr. is. 6d. Newbery. 
The author has, in an elegant dedication to his brother, 
a country clergyman, given the design of his poem : — 
* Without espousing the cause of any party, I have at- 
tempted to moderate the rage of all. I have endeavoured 
to shew, that there may be equal happiness in other states, 
though differently governed from our own ; that each state 
has a peculiar principle of happiness ; and that this prin- 
ciple in each state, particularly in our own, may be carried 
to a mischievous excess.' 

That he may illustrate and enforce this important posi- 
tion, the author places himself on a summit of the Alps, 
and, turning his eyes around, in all directions, upon the 
different regions that lie before him, compares, not merely 
their situation or policy, but those social and domestic 
manners which, after a very few deductions, make the 
sum total of human life. 

' Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow, 
Or by the lazy Scheld, or wandering Po ; 
Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor 
Against the houseless stranger shuts the door; 
Or where Campania's plain forsaken lies, 
A weary waste expanded to the skies. 
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, 
My heart untravell'd fond turns to thee; 
Still to my brother turns with ceaseless pain, 
And drags at each remove a lengthening chain. — 

Even now, where Alpine solitudes ascend, 
I sit me down a pensive hour to spend ; 
And, plac'd on high above the storm's career, 

S 



6 THE CRITICAL REVIEW 

Look downward where an hundred realms appear; 

Lakes, forests, cities, plains extended wide, 

The pomp of kings, the shepherd's humbler pride. 

When thus creation's charms around combine, 
Amidst the store 'twere thankless to repine. 
'Twere affectation all, and school-taught pride, 
To spurn the splendid things by heaven supply'd. 
Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can, 
These little things are great to little man; 
And wiser he, whose sympathetic mind 
Exults in all the good of all mankind.' 

The author already appears, by his numbers, to be a 
versifier ; and by his scenery, to be a poet ; it therefore only 
remains that his sentiments discover him to be a just esti- 
mator of comparative happiness. 

The goods of life are either given by nature, or procured 
by ourselves. Nature has distributed her gifts in very 
different proportions, yet all her children are content ; but 
the acquisitions of art are such as terminate in good or 
evil, as they are differently regulated or combined. 

* Yet, where to find that happiest spot below. 
Who can direct, when all pretend to know? 
The shudd'ring tenant of the frigid zone 
Boldly asserts that country for his own. 
Extols the treasures of his stormy seas, 
And live-long nights of revelry and ease; 
The naked Negro, panting at the line, 
Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine, 
Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave. 
And thanks his Gods for all the good they gave. — 

Nature, a mother kind alike, to all, 
Still grants her bliss at Labour's earnest call ; 
And though rough rocks or gloomy summits frovra. 
These rocks, by custom, turn to beds of down. 

From Art more various are the blessings sent; 
Wealth, splendours, honor, liberty, content : 
Yet these each other's power so strong contest. 
That either seems destructive of the rest. 



GOLDSMITH'S THE TRAVELLER 7 

Hence every state, to one lov'd blessing prone, 
Conforms and models life to that alone. 
Each to the favourite happiness attends, 
And spurns the plan that aims at other ends; 
Till, carried to excess in each domain, 
This favourite good begets peculiar pain.' 

This is the position which he conducts through Italy, 
Swisserland, France, Holland, and England ; and which he 
endeavours to confirm by remarking the manners of every 
country. 

Having censured the degeneracy of the modern Italians, 
he proceeds thus : 

' My soul turn from them, turn we to survey 

Where rougher climes a nobler race display. 

Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansions tread. 

And force a churlish soil for scanty bread; 

No product here the barren hills afford. 

But man and steel, the soldier and his sword. 

No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array, 

But winter lingering chills the lap of May; 

No Zephyr fondly soothes the mountain's breast. 

But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest. 

Yet still, even here, content can spread a charm, 

Redress the clime, and all its rage disarfn. 

Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small, 

He sees his little lot, the lot of all ; 

See no contiguous palace rear its head 

To shame the meanness of his humble shed; 

No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal 

To make him loath his vegetable meal ; 

But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil, 

Each wish contracting, fits him to the soil.' 

But having found that the rural life of a Swiss has its 
evils as well as comforts, he turns to France. 

' To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign. 
We turn ; and France displays her bright domain. 
Gay sprightly land of mirth and social ease. 



8 THE CRITICAL REVIEW 

Pleas'd with thyself, whom all the world can please.— 

Theirs are those arts that mind to mind endear, 

For honour forms the social temper here. — 

From courts to camps, to cottages it strays, 

And all are taught an avarice of praise; 

They please, are pleas'd, they give to get esteem, 

Till, seeming hlest, they grow to what they seem.' 

Yet France has its evils: 

* For praise too dearly lov'd, or warmly sought, 
Enfeebles all internal strength of thought, 
And the weak soul, within itself unblest, 
Leans all for pleasure on another's breast. — 
The mind still turns where shifting fashion draws, 
Nor weighs the solid worth of self-applause.' 

Having then passed through Holland, he arrives in 
England, where, 

* Stem o'er each bosom reason holds her state, 

With daring aims, irregularly great, 

I see the lords of human kind pass by, 

Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, 

Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band. 

By forms unfashion'd, fresh from Nature's hand.' 

With the inconveniences that harrass [sic] the sons of 
freedom, this extract shall be concluded. 

'That independence Britons prize too high. 
Keeps man from man, and breaks the social tie; 
See, though by circling deeps together held, 
Minds combat minds, repelling and repell'd; 
Ferments arise, imprison'd factions roar, 
Represt ambition struggles round her shore. 
Whilst, over-wrought, the general system feels 
Its motions stopt, or phrenzy fires the wheels. 

Nor this the worst. As social bonds decay. 
As duty, love, and honour fail to sway. 
Fictitious bonds, the bonds of wealth and law, 
Still gather strength, and force unwilling awe. 
Hence all obedience bows to these alone. 



GOLDSMITH'S THE TRAVELLER 9 

And talent sinks, and merit weeps unknown ; 

Till time may come, when, stript of all her charms, 

That land of scholars, and that nurse of arms; 

Where noble stems transmit the patriot flame, 

And monarchs toil, and poets pant for fame; 

One sink of level avarice shall lie. 

And scholars, soldiers, kings unhonor'd die.* 

Such is the poem, on which we now congratulate the 
public, as on a production to which, since the death of 
Pope, it will not be easy to find any thing equal. — The 
Critical Review. 



William Cowper 

Poems by William Cowper, of the Inner Temple, Esq. 

8vo. 5^. Johnson, 

These Poems are written, as we learn from the title- 
page, by Mr. Cowper of the Inner Temple, who seems to 
be a man of a sober and religious turn of mind, with a 
benevolent heart, and a serious wish to inculcate the pre- 
cepts of morality; he is not, however, possessed of any 
superior abilities, or powers of genius, requisite to so 
arduous an undertaking; his verses are, in general, weak 
and languid, and have neither novelty, spirit, or animation, 
to recommend them ; that mediocrity so severely con- 
demned by Horace, 

Non Dii non homines, &c. 

pervades the whole ; and, whilst the author avoids 
every thing that is ridiculous or contemptible, he, at 
the same time, never rises to any thing that we can 
commend or admire. He says what is incontrovert- 
ible, and what has already been said over and over, with 
much gravity, but says nothing new, sprightly, or enter- 
taining ; travelling on in a plain, level, flat road, with great 
composure, almost through the whole long, and rather 
tedious volume, which is little better than a dull sermon, 
in very indifferent verse, on Truth, the Progress of Error, 
Charity, and some other grave subjects. If this author 
had followed the advice given by Caraccioli,* and which he 



* Nous sommes nes pour la verite, et nous ne pouvons souffrir 
son abord. Les figures, les paraboles, les emblemes, sont toujours 
des ornements necessaires pour qu'elle puisse s'annoncer : on veut, 
en la recevant, qu'elle soit deguisee. 



COWPER'S POEMS " 

has chosen for one of the mottos prefixed to these Poems, 
he would have clothed his indisputable truths in some 
becoming disguise, and rendered his work much more 
agreeable. In its present state, we cannot compliment 
him on its shape or beauty ; for, as this bard himself 
sweetly sings, 

' The clear harangue, and cold as it is clear, 
Falls soporific on the listless ear.' 

In his learned dissertation on Hope, we meet with the 
following lines 

[Quotes some fifty lines from Hope beginning. 
Build by whatever plan caprice decrees. 
With what materials, on what ground j-ou please, etc.] 

All this is very true ; but there needs no ghost, nor 
author, nor poet, to tell us what we knew before, unless 
he could tell it to us in a new and better manner. Add 
to this, that many of our author's expressions are coarse, 
vulgar, and unpoetical ; such as parrying, pushing by, 
spitting abhorrence, &c. The greatest part of Mr. Cow- 
per's didactics is in the same strain. He attempts indeed 
sometimes to be lively, facetious, and satirical ; but is sel- 
dom more successful in this, than in the serious and 
pathetic. In his poem on Conversation there are two or 
three faint attempts at humour ; in one of them he tells us 
that 

' A story in which native humour reigns 

Is often useful, always entertains, 

A graver fact enlisted on your side, 

May furnish illustration, well applied; 

But sedentary weavers of long tales, 

Give me the fidgets and my patience fails. 

'Tis the most asinine employ on earth, 

To hear them tell of parentage and birth, 



12 THE CRITICAL REVIEW 

And echo conversations dull and dry, 
Embellished with, he said, and so said I. 
At ev'ry interview their route the same, 
The repetition makes attention lame, 
We bustle up with unsuccessful speed, 
And in the saddest part cry — droll indeed! 
The path of narrative with care pursue, 
Still making probability your clue. 
On all the vestiges of truth attend, 
And let them guide you to a decent end. 
Of all ambitions man may entertain. 
The worst that can invade a sickly brain, 
Is that which angles hourly for surprize, 
And baits its hook with prodigies and lies. 
Credulous infancy or age as weak 
Are fittest auditors for such to seek. 
Who to please others will themselves disgrace. 
Yet please not, but affront you to your face.' 

In the passage above quoted, our readers will perceive 
that the wit is rather aukward, [sic]^ and the verses, espe- 
cially the last, very prosaic. 

Toward the end of this volume are some little pieces of 
a lighter kind, which, after dragging through Mr, 
Cowper's long moral lectures, afforded us some relief. 
The fables of the Lily and the Rose, the Nightingale and 
Glow-worm, the Pine-apple and the Bee, with two or 
three others, are written with ease and spirit. It is a pity 
that our author had not confined himself altogether to this 
species of poetry, without entering into a system of ethics, 
for which his genius seems but ill adapted. — The Critical 
Review. 



Robert Burns 

Poems, chicly in the Scottish Dialect By Robert 

Burns, Kilmarnock. 

When an author we know nothing of solicits our atten- 
tion, we are but too apt to treat him with the same reluct- 
ant civility we show to a person who has come unbidden 
into company. Yet talents and address will gradually 
diminish the distance of our behaviour, and when the first 
unfavourable impression has worn off, the author may 
become a favourite, and the stranger a friend. The poems 
w^e have just announced may probably have to struggle 
with the pride of learning and" the partiality of refinement ; 
yet they are intitled to particular indulgence. 

Who are you, Air. Burns? will some surly critic say. 
At what university have you been educated? what lan- 
guages do you understand? what authors have you par- 
ticularly studied? whether has Aristotle or Horace 
directed your taste? who has praised your poems, and 
under whose patronage are they published ? In short, what 
qualifications intitle you to instruct or entertain us? To 
the questions of such a catechism, perhaps honest Robert 
Burns would make no satisfactory answers. ' My good 
Sir, he might say, I am a poor country man ; I was bred 
up at the school of Kilmarnock ; I imderstand no lan- 
guages but my own ; I have studied Allan Ramsay and 
Ferguson. Aly poems have been praised at many a fire- 
side; and I ask no patronage for them, if they deserve 
none. I have not looked on mankind through the spec- 
tacle of books. An ounce of mother-wit, you know, is 
worth a pound of clergy ; and Homer and Ossian, for any 
thing that I have heard, could neither write nor read.' 

13 



14 THE EDINBURGH MAGAZINE 

The author is indeed a striking example of native genius 
bursting through the obscurity of poverty and the obstruc- 
tions of laborious life. He is said to be a common 
ploughman ; and when we consider him in this light, we 
cannot help regretting that wayward fate had not placed 
him in a more favoured situation. Those who view him 
with the severity of lettered criticism, and judge him by 
the fastidious rules of art, will discover that he has not 
the doric simplicity of Ramsay, nor the brilliant imagina- 
tion of Ferguson ; but to those who admire the exertions 
of untutored fancy, and are blind to many faults for the 
sake of numberless beauties, his poems will afford singular 
gratification. His observations on human characters are 
acute and sagacious, and his descriptions are lively and 
just. Of rustic pleasantry he has a rich fund ; and some 
of his softer scenes are touched with inimitable delicacy. 
He seems to be a boon companion, and often startles us 
wath a dash of libertinism, which will keep some readers 
at a distance. Some of his subjects are serious, but those 
of the humorous kind are the best. It is not meant, how- 
ever, to enter into a minute investigation of his merits, 
as the copious extracts we have subjoined will enable our 
readers to judge for themselves. The Character Horace 
gives to Osellus is particularly applicable to him. 

Rusticiis ahnormis sapiens, crassaqiie Minerva. 

[Quotes Address to the Deil, from the Epistle to a Brother 
Bard, from Description of a Sermon in the Fields, and from 
Hallozve'en.] — The Edinburgh Magazine. 



Poems, chiefly in the Scottish Dialed. By Robert Burns. 

Printed at Kilmarnock. 

We have had occasion to examine a number of poetical 
productions, written by persons in the lower rank of life, 
and who had hardly received any education ; but we do not 
recollect to have ever met with a more signal instance of 
true and uncultivated genius, than in the author of these 
Poems. His occupation is that of a common ploughman ; 
and his life has hitherto been spent in struggling with 
poverty. But all the rigours of fortune have not been able 
to repress the frequent efforts of his lively and vigorous 
imagination. Some of these poems are of a serious cast; 
but the strain which seems most natural to the author, is 
the sportive and humorous. It is to be regretted, that 
the Scottish dialect, in which these poems are written, 
must obscure the native beauties with which they appear 
to abound, and renders the sense often unintelligible to an 
English reader. Should it, however, prove true, that the 
author has been taken under the patronage of a great 
lady in Scotland, and that a celebrated professor has in- 
terested himself in the cultivation of his talents, there is 
reason to hope, that his distinguished genius may yet be 
exerted in such a manner as to afford more general de- 
light. In the meantime, we must admire the generous 
enthusiasm of his untutored muse ; and bestow the tribute 
of just applause on one whose name will be transmitted to 
posterity with honour. — The Critical Review, 



^5 



William Wordsworth 

Descriptive Sketches, in Verse. Taken during a Pedes- 
trian Tour in the Italian, Grison, Swiss and Savoyard 
Alps. By W. Wordsworth, B.A. of St. John's, Cam- 
bridge. 4to. pp. 55. 3s. Johnson. 1793. 
More descriptive poetry! (See page 166, &c.) Have 
we not yet enough? Must eternal changes be rung on 
uplands and lowlands, and nodding forests, and brooding 
clouds, and cells, and dells, and dingles ? Yes ; more, and 
yet more : so it is decreed. 

Mr. Wordsworth begins his descriptive sketches with 
the following exordium : 

* Were there, below, a spot of holy ground, 

By Pain and her sad family Mwfoiind, 

Sure, Nature's God that spot to man had giv'n. 

Where murmuring rivers join the song of ev'n! 

Where falls the purple morning far and wide 

In flakes of light upon the mountain side; 

Where summer suns in ocean sink to rest. 

Or moonlight upland lifts her hoary breast; 

Where Silence, on her night of wing, o'er-broods 

Unfathom'd dells and undiscover'd woods ; 

Where rocks and groves the poxver of waters shakes 

In cataracts, or sleeps in quiet lakes." 

May we ask, how it is that rivers join the song of 
ev'n? or, in plain prose, the evening! but, if they do, is 
it not true that they equally join the song of morning, 
noon, and night? The purple morning falling in Hakes of 
light is a bold figure : but we are told, it falls far and wide 
— Where? — On the mountain's side. We are sorry to 
see the purple morning confined so like a maniac in a 
straight waistcoat. What the night of wing of silence is, 

16 



WORDSWORTH'S DESCRIPTIVE SKETCHES i? 

we are unable to comprehend : but the cHmax of the 
passage is, that, were there such a spot of holy ground as 
is here so sublimely described, itnfound by Pain and her 
sad family. Nature's God had surely given that spot to 
man, though its woods were undiscovered. 
Let us proceed, 

' But doubly pitying Nature loves to show'r 
Soft on his ivoundcd heart her healing pow'r. 
Who plods o'er hills and vales his road forlorn, 
Wooing her varying charms from eve to mom. 
No sad vacuities his heart amioy, 
Blows not a Zephyr but it whispers joy; 
For him lost flowers their idle sweets exhale; 
He tastes the meanest note that swells the gale; 
For him sod-seats the cottage-door adorn, 
And peeps the far-off spire, his evening bourn! 
Dear is the forest frorvning o'er his head, 
And dear the green-sward to his velvet tread; 
Moves there a cloud o'er mid-day's flaming eye? 
Upwards he looks — and calls it luxury; 
Kind Nature's charities his steps attend, 
In every babbling brook he finds a friend.' 

Here we find that doubly pitying Nature is very kind to 
the traveller, but that this traveller has a wounded heart 
and plods his road forlorn. In the next line but one we 
discover that — 

' No sad vacuities his heart annoy; 
. Blows not a Zephyr but it whispers joy.' 

The flowers, though they have lost themselves, or are 
lost, exhale their idle sweets for him ; the spire peeps for 
him ; sod-seats, forests, clouds, nature's charities, and 
babbling brooks, all are to him luxury and friendship. He 
is the happiest of mortals, and plods, is forlorn, and has 
a wounded heart. How often shall we in vain advise 
5 



1 8 THE MONTHLY REVIEW 

those, who are so delighted with their own thoughts that 
they cannot forbear from putting them into rhyme, to ex- 
amine those thoughts till they themselves understand 
them? No man will ever be a poet, till his mind be suffi- 
ciently powerful to sustain this labour.— The Monthly 
Review. 



An Evening Walk. An Epistle ; in Verse. Addressed to 
a Young Lady, from the Lakes of the North of Eng- 
land. By W. Wordsworth, B.A. of St. John's, Cam- 
bridge. 4to. pp. 27. 2s. Johnson. 1793. 
In this Epistle, the subject and the manner of treating 
it vary but little from the former poem. We will quote 
four lines from a passage which the author very sorrow- 
fully apologizes for having omitted : 

' Return delights ! with whom my road be^wn. 
When Life-rcar'd laughing up her morning sun; 
When Transport kiss'd away my April tear, 
" Rocking as in a dream the tedious year." 

Life rearing up the sun ! Transport kissing away an 
April tear and rocking the year as in a dream ! Would 
the cradle had been specified ! Seriously, these are figures 
which no poetical license can justify. If they can possibly 
give pleasure, it must be to readers whose habits of think- 
ing are totally different from ours. Mr. Wordsworth is 
a scholar, and, no doubt, when reading the works of 
others, a critic. There are passages in his poems which 
display imagination, and which afford hope for the future : 
but, if he can divest himself of all partiality, and will 
critically question every line that he has written, he will 
find many which, he must allow, call loudly for amend- 
ment. — The Monthly Review, 



i; 



Lyrical Ballads, with a fezv other Poems. Small 8vo. 

5^. Boards. Arch. 1798. 

The majority of these poems, we are informed in the 
advertisement, are to be considered as experiments. 

' They were written chiefly with a view to ascertain 
how far the language of conversation in the middle and 
lower classes of society is adapted to the purposes of 
poetic pleasure.' P. i. 

Of these experimental poems, the most important is the 
Idiot Boy, the story of which is simply this. Betty Foy's 
neighbour Susan Gale is indisposed ; and no one can con- 
veniently be sent for the doctor but Betty's idiot boy. She 
therefore puts him upon her poney, at eight o'clock in the 
evening, gives him proper directions, and returns to take 
care of her sick neighbour. Johnny is expected with the 
doctor by eleven ; but the clock strikes eleven, and twelve, 
and one, without the appearance either of Johnny or the 
doctor. Betty's restless fears become insupportable; and 
she now leaves her friend to look for her idiot son. She 
goes to the doctor's house, but hears nothing of Johnny. 
About five o'clock, however, she finds him sitting quietly 
upon his feeding poney. As they go home they meet old 
Susan, whose apprehensions have cured her, and brought 
her out to seek them ; and they all return merrily together. 

Upon this subject the author has written nearly five 
hundred lines. With what spirit the story is told, our 
extract will evince. 

[Quotes lines (322-401) of The Idiot Boy.l 

No tale less deserved the labour that appears to have 
been bestowed upon this. It resembles a Flemish picture 
in the worthlessness of its design and the excellence of its 



I 



THE LYRICAL BALLADS 21 

execution. From Flemish artists we are satisfied with 
such pieces : who would not have lamented, if Corregio 
or Rafaelle had wasted their talents in painting Dutch 
boors or the humours of a Flemish wake ? 

The other ballads of this kind are as bald in story, and 
are not so highly embellished in narration. With that 
which is entitled the Thorn, we were altogether displeased. 
The advertisement says, it is not told in the person of the 
author, but in that of some loquacious narrator. The 
author should have recollected that he who personates 
tiresome loquacity, becomes tiresome himself. The story 
of a man who suffers the perpetual pain of cold, because 
an old woman prayed that he might never be warm, is 
perhaps a good story for a ballad, because it is a well- 
known tale: but is the author certain that it is 'well 
authenticated?' and does not such an assertion promote 
the popular superstition of witchcraft? 

In a very different style of poetry, is the Rime of the 
Ancyent Marinere; a ballad (says the advertisement) 
* professedly written in imitation of the style, as well as 
of the spirit of the elder poets.' We are tolerably con- 
versant with the early English poets ; and can discover no 
resemblance whatever, except in antiquated spelling and 
a few obsolete words. This piece appears to us perfectly 
original in style as well as in story. Many of the stanzas 
are laboriously beautiful ; but in connection they are 
absurd or unintelligible. Our readers may exercise their 
ingenuity in attempting to unriddle what follows. 

* The roaring wind ! it roar'd far off, 
It did not come anear; 
But with its sound it shook the sails 
That were so thin and sere. 

The upper air bursts into life, 
And a hundred fire-flags sheen 



2 2 THE CRITICAL REVIEW 

To and fro they are hurried about; 
And to and fro, and in and out 
The stars dance on between. 

The coming wind doth roar more loud; 

The sails do sigh, like sedge: 
The rain pours down from one black cloud, 

And the moon is at its edge. 

Hark ! hark ! the thick black cloud is cleft, 

And the moon is at its side : 
Like waters shot from some high crag. 
The lightning falls with never a jag 

A river steep and wide. 

The strong wind reach'd the ship : it roar'd 

And dropp'd down, like a stone ! 
Beneath the lightning and the moon 

The dead men gave a groan.' P. 27. 

.We do not sufficiently understand the story to analyse 
it. It is a Dtitch attempt at German sublimity. Genius 
has here been employed in producing a poem of little 
merit. 

With pleasure we turn to the serious pieces, the better 
part of the volume. The Foster-Mother's Tale is in the 
best style of dramatic narrative. The Dungeon, and the 
Lines upon the Yew-tree Seat, are beautiful. The Tale 
of the Female Vagrant is written in the stanza, not the 
style, of Spenser. We extract a part of this poem. 

[Quotes lines (91-180) of The Female Vagrant.} 

Admirable as this poem is, the author seems to discover 
still superior powers in the Lines written near Tintem 
Abbey. On reading this production, it is impossible not 
to lament that he should ever have condescended to write 
such pieces as the Last of the Flock, the Convict, and 
most of the ballads. In the whole range of English 



THE LYRICAL BALLADS 23 

poetry, we scarcely recollect anything superior to a part 
of the following passage. 

[Quotes lines (66-112) of Lines Written a fezu Miles above 
T intern Abbey.] 

The ' experiment,' we think, has failed, not because the 
language of conversation is little adapted to ' the purposes 
of poetic pleasure ' but because it has been tried upon un- 
interesting subjects. Yet every piece discovers genius; 
and. ill as the author has frequently employed his talents, 
they certainly rank him with the best of living poets. 
— The Critical Rcz'iew. 



Poems, in Two Volumes. By William Wordsworth, 
Author of the Lyrical Ballads. 8vo. pp. 320. Lon- 
don, 1807. 

This author is known to belong to a certain brotherhood 
of poets, who have haunted for some years about the 
Lakes of Cumberland ; and is generally looked upon, we 
believe, as the purest model of the excellences and pecu- 
liarities of the school which they have been labouring to 
establish. Of the general merits of that school, we have 
had occasion to express our opinion pretty freely, in more 
places than one, and even to make some allusion to the 
former publications of the writer now before us. We 
are glad, however, to have found an opportunity of at- 
tending somewhat more particularly to his pretensions. 

The Lyrical Ballads were unquestionably popular; and, 
we have no hesitation in saying, deservedly popular; for 
in spite of their occasional vulgarity, affectation, and silli- 
ness, they were undoubtedly characterised by a strong 
spirit of originality, of pathos, and natural feeling; and 
recommended to all good minds by the clear impression 
which they bore of the amiable dispositions and virtuous 
principles of the author. By the help of these qualities, 
they were enabled, not only to recommend themselves to 
the indulgence of many judicious readers, but even to 
beget among a pretty numerous class of persons, a sort 
of admiration of the very defects by which they were at- 
tended. It was upon this account chiefly, that we thought 
it necessary to set ourselves against this alarming innova- 
tion. Childishness, conceit, and affectation, are not of 
themselves very popular or attractive ; and though mere 
novelty has sometimes been found sufficient to give them 

24 



WORDSWORTH'S POEMS 25 

a temporary currency, we should have had no fear of their 
prevaiHng to any dangerous extent, if they had been 
graced with no more seductive accompaniments. It was 
precisely because the perverseness and bad taste of this 
new school was combined with a great deal of genius and 
of laudable feeling, that we were afraid of their spreading 
and gaining ground among us, and that we entered into 
the discussion with a degree of zeal and animosity which 
some might think unreasonable toward authors, to whom 
so much merit had been conceded. There were times and 
moods indeed, in which we were led to suspect ourselves of 
unjustifiable severity, and to doubt, whether a sense of 
public duty had not carried us rather too far in reproba- 
tion of errors, that seemed to be atoned for, by excellences 
of no vulgar description. At other times, the magnitude 
of these errors — the disgusting absurdities into which they 
led their feebler admirers, and the derision and contempt 
which they drew from the more fastidious, even upon the 
merits with which they were associated, made us wonder 
more than ever at the perversity by which they were re- 
tained, and regret that we had not declared ourselves 
against them with still more formidable and decided hos- 
tility. 

In this temper of mind, we read the annoncc of Mr 
Wordsworth's publication with a good deal of interest and 
expectation, and opened his volumes with greater anxiety, 
than he or his admirers will probably give us credit for. 
We have been greatly disappointed certainly as to the 
quality of the poetry ; but we doubt whether the publica- 
tion has afforded so much satisfaction to any other of his 
readers : — it has freed us from all doubt or hesitation as 
to the justice of our former censures, and has brought the 
matter to a test, which we cannot help hoping may be con- 
vincing to the author himself. 



26 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

Mr Wordsworth, we think, has now brought the ques- 
tion, as to the merit of his new school of poetry, to a 
very fair and decisive issue. The volumes before us are 
much more strongly marked by all its peculiarities than 
any former publication of the fraternity. In our appre- 
hension, they are, on this very account, infinitely less in- 
teresting or meritorious ; but it belongs to the public, and 
not to us, to decide upon their merit, and we will confess, 
that so strong is our conviction of their obvious inferiority, 
and the grounds of it, that we are willing for once to 
wa[i]ve our right of appealing to posterity, and to take the 
judgment of the present generation of readers, and even 
of Mr Wordsworth's former admirers, as conclusive on 
this occasion. If these volumes, which have all the benefit 
of the author's former popularity, turn out to be nearly as 
popular as the lyrical ballads — if they sell nearly to the 
same extent — or are quoted and imitated among half as 
many individuals, we shall admit that ]\Ir, Wordsworth 
has come much nearer the truth in his judgment of what 
constitutes the charm of poetry, than we had previously 
imagined — and shall institute a more serious and respect- 
ful inquiry into his principles of composition than we have 
yet thought necessary. On the other hand, — if this little 
work, selected from the compositions of five maturer 
years, and written avowedly for the purpose of exalting 
a system, which has already excited a good deal of atten- 
tion, should be generally rejected by those whose prepos- 
sessions were in its favovir, there is room to hope, not only 
that the system itself will meet with no more encourage- 
ment, but even that the author will be persuaded to aban- 
don a plan of writing, which defrauds his industry and 
talents of their natural reward. 

Putting ourselves thus upon our country, we certainly 
look for a verdict against this publication; and have little 



WORDSWORTH'S POEMS 27 

doubt indeed of the result, upon a fair consideration of 
the evidence contained in these volumes. — To accelerate 
that result, and to give a general view of the evidence, 
to those into whose hands the record may not have 
already fallen, we must now make a few observations and 
extracts. 

We shall not resume any of the particular discussions 
by which we formerly attempted to ascertain the value of 
the improvements which this new school had effected in 
poetry ;* but shall lay the grounds of our opposition, for 
this time, a little more broadly. The end of poetry, we 
take it, is to please — and the name, we think, is strictly 
applicable to every metrical composition from which we 
receive pleasure, without any laborious exercise of the 
understanding. This pleasure, may, in general, be ana- 
lyzed into three pifets,-;— that which we receive from the 
excitement of P assion or emotion — that which is de- 
rived from the play of Im agination, or the easy exercise 
of Reason — and that which depends on the character and 
qualities of the Diction. The two first are the vital and 
primary springs of poetical delight, and can scarcely re- 
quire explanation to any one. The last has been alter- 
nately overrated and undervalued by the professors of the 
poetical art, and is in such low estimation with the author 
now before us and his associates, that it is necessary to 
say a few words in explanation of it. 

One great beauty of diction exists only for those who 
have some degree of scholarship or critical skill. This is 
what depends on the exquisite propriety of the words 
employed, and the delicacy with which they are adapted 
to the meaning which is to be expressed. Many of the 
finest passages in Virgil and Pope derive their principal 
charm from the fine propriety of their diction. Another 



* See Vol. I. p. 63, &c.— Vol. VII. p. i, &c. 



28 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

source of beauty, which extends only to the more in- 
structed class of readers, is that which consists in the 
judicious or happy application of expressions which have 
been sanctified by the use of famous writers, or which 
bear the stamp of a simple or venerable antiquity. There 
are other beauties of diction, however, which are per- 
ceptible by all — the beauties of sweet sound and pleasant 
associations. The melody of words and verses is indif- 
ferent to no reader of poetry ; but the chief recommenda- 
tion of poetical language is certainly derived from those 
general associations, which give it a character of dignity 
or elegance, sublimity or tenderness. Every one knows 
that there are low and mean expressions, as well as lofty 
and grave ones ; and that some words bear the impression 
of coarseness and vulgarity, as clearly as others do of re- 
finement and afifection. We do not mean, of course, to 
say anything in defence of the hackneyed common-places 
of ordinary versemen. Whatever might have been the 
original character of these unlucky phrases, they are now 
associated with nothing but ideas of schoolboy imbecility 
and vulgar affectation. But what we do maintain is, that 
much of the most popular poetry in the world owes its 
celebrity chiefly to the beauty of its diction ; and that no 

^1 poetry can be long or generally acceptable, the language 

C of which is coarse, inelegant, or infantine. 

From this great source of pleasure, we think the read- 
ers of Mr Wordsworth are in a great measure cut off. 
His diction has no where any pretensions to elegance or 
dignity ; and he has scarcely ever condescended to give 
the grace of correctness or melody to his versification. 
If it were merely slovenly and neglected, however, all 
this might be endured. Strong sense and powerful feel- 
ing will ennoble any expressions ; or, at least, no one who 
is capable of estimating those higher merits, will be dis- 



WORDSWORTH'S POEMS 29 

posed to mark these little defects. But, in good truth, 
no man, no\v-a-days, composes verses for publica- 
tion with a slovenly neglect of their language. It is a 
fine and laborious manufacture, which can scarcely ever 
be made in a hurry ; and the faults which it has, may, for 
the most part, be set down to bad taste or incapacity, 
rather than to carelessness or oversight. With Mr 
Wordsworth and his friends, it is plain that their pecu- 
liarites of diction are things of choice, and not of accident. 
They write as they do, upon principle and system ; and 
it evidently costs them much pains to keep down to the 
standard which they have proposed to themselves. They 
are, to the full, as much mannerists, too, as the poetasters 
w^ho ring changes on the common-places of magazine 
versification ; and all the difference between them is, that 
they borrow their phrases from a different and a scantier 
gradiis ad Parnassum. If they were, indeed, to discard 
all imitation and set phraseology, and to bring in no words 
merely for show or for metre, — as much, perhaps, might 
be gained in freedom and originality, as would infallibly 
be lost in allusion and authority ; but, in point of fact, the 
new poets are just as great borrowers as the old; only 
that, instead of borrowing from the more popular pas- 
sages of their illustrious predecessors, they have preferred 
furnishing themselves from vulgar ballads and plebeian 
nurseries. 

Their peculiarities of diction alone, are enough, perhaps, 
to render them ridiculous ; but the author before us really 
seems anxious to court this literary martyrdom by a device 
still more infallible, — we mean, that of connecting his 
most lofty, tender, or impassioned conceptions, with 
objects and incidents, which the greater part of his 
readers will probably persist in thinking low, silly, or un- 
interesting. Whether this is done from affectation and 



30 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

conceit alone, or whether it may not arise, in some meas- 
ure, from the self-ilhision of a mind of extraordinary 
sensibiHty, habituated to soUtary meditation, we cannot 
undertake to determine. It is possible enough, we allow, 
that the sight of a friend's garden-spade, or a sparrow's 
nest, or a man gathering leeches, might really have sug- 
gested to such a mind a train of powerful impressions 
and interesting reflections ; but it is certain, that, to most 
minds, such associations will always appear forced, 
strained, and unnatural ; and that the composition in 
which it is attempted to exhibit them, will always have 
the air of parody, or ludicrous and afifected singularity. 
All the world laughs at Elegiac stanzas to a sucking-pig 
— a Hymn on Washing-day — Sonnets to one's grand- 
mother — or Pindarics on gooseberry-pye ; and yet, we are 
afraid, it will not be quite easy to convince Mr Words- 
worth, that the same ridicule must infallibly attach to 
most of the pathetic pieces in these volumes. To satisfy 
our readers, however, as to the justice of this and our 
other anticipations, we shall proceed, without further 
preface, to lay before them a short view of their contents. 
The first is a kind of ode ' to the Daisy,' — very flat, 
feeble, and afifected; and in a diction as artificial, and as 
much encumbered with heavy expletives, as the theme of 
an unpractised schoolboy. The two following stanzas 
will serve as a specimen. 

' When soothed a while by milder airs, 
Thee Winter in the garland wears 
That thinly shades his few grey hairs ; 

Spring cannot shun thcc; 
Whole summer fields are thine by right; 
And Autumn, melancholy Wight ! 
Doth in thy crimson head delight 

When rains are on thee. 
In shoals and bands, a morrice train, 



WORDSWORTH'S POEMS 3' 

Thou greet 'st the Traveller in the lane; 
If welcome once thou count'st it gain; 

Thou art not daunted, 
Nor car'st if thou be set at naught; 
And oft alone in nooks remote 
We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, 

When such are zvantcd.' I. p. 2. 

The scope of the piece is to say, that the flower is found 
everywhere ; and that it has suggested many pleasant 
thoughts to the author — some chime of fancy ' zvrong or 
right ' — some feeling of devotion ' more or less ' — and 
other elegancies of the same stamp. It ends with this 
unmeaning prophecy. 

' Thou long the poet's praise shalt gain ; 
Thou wilt be more beloved by men 
In times to come ; thou not in vain 
Art Nature's favourite.' I. 6. 

The next is called ' Louisa,' and begins in this dashing 
and affected manner. 

'I met Louisa in the shade; 
And, having seen that lovely maid. 
Why should I fear to say 
That she is ruddy, fleet, and strong; 
And down the rocks can leap along. 
Like rivulets in May?' I. 7. 

Does Mr Wordsworth really imagine that this is at all 
more natural or engaging than the ditties of our common 
song writers? 

A little farther on we have another original piece, en- 
titled, * The Redbreast and the Butterfly,' of which our 
readers will probably be contented with the first stanza. 

'Art thou the bird whom man loves best, 
The pious bird with the scarlet breast, 



32 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

Our little English Robin; 
The bird that comes about our doors 
When autumn winds are sobbing? 
Art thou the Peter of Norway Boors? 

Their Thomas in Finland, 

And Russia far inland? 
The bird, whom by some name or other 
All men who know thee call their brother, 
The darling of children and men? 
Could Father Adam open his eyes, 
And see this sight beneath the skies, 
He'd wish to close them again.' I. i6. 

This, it must be confessed, is ' Silly Sooth ' in good 
earnest. The three last [sic] lines seem to be downright 
raving. 

By and by, we have a piece of namby-pamby ' to the 
Small Celandine,' which we should almost have taken for 
a professed imitation of one of Mr Philip's prettyisms. 
Here is a page of it. 

' Comfort have thou of thy merit. 
Kindly, unassuming spirit ! 
Careless of thy neighbourhood. 
Thou dost show thy pleasant face 
On the moor, and in the wood, 
In the lane; — there's not a place, 
Howsoever mean it be, 
But 'tis good enough for thee. 
Ill befal the yellow flowers. 
Children of the flaring hours ! 
Buttercups, that will be seen, 
Whether we will see or no; 
Others, too, of lofty mien ; 
They have done as worldlings do, 
Taken praise that should be thine, 
Little, humble. Celandine ! I. 25. 

After talking of its * bright coronet,* 



WORDSWORTH'S POEMS 33 

tlie ditty is wound up with this piece of babyish absurdity. 

' Thou art not beyond the moon, 
But a thing "beneath our shoon;" 
Let, as old Magellan did, 
Others roam about the sea ; 
Build who will a pyramid; 
Praise it is enough for me, 
If there be but three or four 
Who will love my little flower.' I. 30. 

After this come some more manly lines on ' The Char- 
acter of the Happy Warrior,' and a chivalrous legend 
on ' The Horn of Egremont Castle,' which, without being 
very good, is very tolerable, and free from most of the 
author's habitual defects. Then follow some pretty, but 
professedly childish verses, on a kitten playing with the 
falling leaves. There is rather too much of Mr Ambrose 
Philips here and there in this piece also ; but it is amiable 
and lively. 

Further on, we find an ' Ode to Duty,' in which the lofty 
vein is very unsuccessfully attempted. This is the con- 
cluding stanza. 

' Stern lawgiver ! yet thou dost wear 
The Godhead's most benignant grace; 
Nor know we anything so fair 
As is the smile upon thy face; 
Flowers laugh before thee on their beds ; 
And fragrance in thy footing treads ; 
Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong; 
And the most ancient heavens through thee 
are fresh and strong.' I. y^. 

The two last \sic'\ lines seem to be utterly without 
meaning; at least we have no sort of conception in what 
6 



34 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

sense Duty can be said to keep the old skies fresh, and the 
stars from wrong. 

The next piece, entitled ' The Beggars,' may be taken, 
we fancy, as a touchstone of Mr Wordsworth's merit. 
There is something about it that convinces us it is a 
favourite of the author's ; though to us, we will confess, it 
appears to be a very paragon of silliness and affectation. 
Our readers shall have the greater part of it. It begins 
thus. 

' She had a tall man's height, or more ; 

No bonnet screen'd her from the heat ; 

A long drab-coloured cloak she wore, 

A mantle reaching to her feet : 

What other dress she had I could not know ; 
Only she wore a cap that was as white as snow. 

' Before me begging did she stand. 
Pouring out sorrows like a sea ; 
Grief after grief: — on English land 
Such woes I knew could never be ; 
And yet a boon I gave her; for the creature 
Was beautiful to see ; a weed of glorious feature !' 

-I. 77, 78. 

The poet, leaving this interesting person, falls in with 
two ragged boys at play, and ' like that woman's face 
as gold is like to gold.' Here is the conclusion of this 
memorable adventure. 

'They bolted on me thus, and lo! 
Each ready with a plaintive whine; 
Said I, " Not half an hour ago 
Your mother has had alms of mine." 
"That cannot be," one answered, "She is dead." 
" Nay but I gave her pence, and she will buy you bread." 

" She has been dead. Sir, many a day." 
"Sweet boys, you're telling me a lie; 
" It was your mother, as I say — " 



I 



WORDSWORTH'S POEMS 35 

And in the twinkling of an eye, 
"Come, come!" cried one; and, without more ado, 
Off to some other play they both together flew.' I. 79. 

'Alice Fell ' is a performance of the same order. The 
poet, driving into Durham in a postchaise, hears a sort of 
scream ; and, calling to the post-boy to stop, finds a little 
girl crying on the back of the vehicle. 

"My cloak!" the word was last and first, 
And loud and bitterly she wept. 
As if her very heart would burst ; 
And down from off the chaise she leapt. 

"What ails you, child?" she sobb'd, "Look here!" 

I saw it in the wheel entangled, 

A weather beaten rag as e'er 

From any garden scarecrow dangled.' I. 85, 86. 

They then extricate the torn garment, and the good- 
natured bard takes the child into the carriage along with 
him. The narrative proceeds — 

" j\Iy child, in Durham do you dwell?" 
She check'd herself in her distress, 
And said, " My name is Alice Fell ; 
I'm fatherless and motherless. 

And I to Durham, Sir, belong." 
And then, as if the thought would choke 
Her very heart, her grief grew strong; 
And all was for her tatter'd cloak. 

The chaise drove on; our journey's end 
Was nigh ; and, sitting by my side. 
As if she'd lost her only friend 
She wept, nor would be pacified. 

Up to the tavern-door we post ; 
Of Alice and her grief I told; 
And I gave money to the host. 
To buy a new cloak for the old. 



36 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

" And let it be of duffil grey, 
As warm a cloak as man can sell !" 
Proud creature was she the next day, 
The little orphan, Alice Fell !' I. p. 87, 88. 

If the printing of such trash as this be not felt as an 
insult on the public taste, we are afraid it cannot be in- 
sulted. 

After this follows the longest and most elaborate poem 
in the volume, under the title of ' Resolution and Inde- 
pendence.' The poet, roving about on a common one 
fine morning, falls into pensive musings on the fate of the 
sons of song, which he sums up in this fine distich. 

'We poets in our youth begin in gladness; 
But thereof comes in the end despondency and madness.* 

—I. p. 92. 
In the midst of his meditations — 

* I saw a man before me unawares ; 
The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs. 



Motionless as a cloud the old man stood ; 

That heareth not the loud winds when they call; 

And moveth altogether, if it move at all. 

At length, himself unsettling, he the pond 

Stirred with his staff, and fixedly did look 

Upon the muddy water, which he conn'd, 

As if he had been reading in a book: 

And now such fre[e]dom as I could I took; 

And, drawing to his side, to him did say, 

" This morning gives us promise of a glorious day." 



"What kind of work is that which you pursue? 

This is a lonesome place for one like you." 

He answer'd me zvith pleasure and surprise; 

And there was, while he spake, a fire about his eyes. 



WORDSWORTH'S POEMS 37 

He told me that he to this pond had come 
To gather leeches, being old and poor: 
Employment hazardous and wearisome ! 
And he had many hardships to endure : 
From pond to pond he roam'd, from moor to moor, 
Housing, with God's good help, by choice or chance : 
And in this way he gain'd an honest maintenance.' 

—I. p. 92-95. 

Notwithstanding the distinctness of this answer, the 
poet, it seems, was so wrapped up in his own moody 
fancies, that he could not attend to it. 

* And now, not knowing what the old man had said. 
My question eagerly did I renew, 
" How is it that you live, and what is it you do ?" 
He with a smile did then his words repeat ; 
And said, that, gathering leeches, far and wide 
He travelled ; stirring thus about his feet 
The waters of the ponds where they abide. 
" Once I could meet zvith them on every side; 
But they have dwindled long by slow decay; 
Yet still I persevere, and find them where I may." 

—I. p. 96, 97. 

This very interesting- account, which he is lucky enough 
at last to comprehend, fills the poet with comfort and 
admiration ; and, quite glad to find the old man so cheer- 
ful, he resolves to take a lesson of contentedness from 
him ; and the poem ends with this pious ejaculation — 

" God," said I, " be my help and stay secure ; 
I'll think of the leech-gatherer on the lonely moor." 

—I. p. 97. 

We defy the bitterest enemy of Mr Wordsworth to 
produce anything at all parallel to this from any collection 
of English poetry, or even from the specimens of his 
friend Mr Southey. The volume ends with some 



38 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

sonnets, in a very different measure, of which we shall say 
something by and by. 

The first poems in the second vokmie were written 
during a tour in Scotland. The first is a very dull one 
about Rob Roy; but the title that attracted us most was 
' an Address to the Sons of Burns, after visiting their 
Father's Grave.' Never was anything, however, more 
miserable. This is one of the four stanzas. 

'Strong bodied if ye be to bear 
Intemperance with less harm, beware! 
But if your father's wit ye share. 

Then, then indeed, 
Ye sons of Burns ! for watchful care 

There will be need.* II. p. 29. 

The next is a very tedious, affected performance, called 
' the Yarrow Unvisited.' The drift of it is, that the poet 
refused to visit this celebrated stream, because he had ' a 
vision of his own ' about it, which the reality might per- 
haps undo ; and, for this no less fantastical reason — 

" Should life be dull, and spirits low, 
" 'Twill soothe us in our sorrow, 
" That earth has something yet to show, 
" The bonny holms of Yarrow!" II. p. 35. 

After this we come to some ineffable compositions which 
the poet has simply entitled, * Moods of my own Mind.' 
One begins — 

' O Nightingale ! thou surely art 
A creature of a fiery heart — 
Thou sing'st as if the god of wine 
Had help'd thee to a valentine.' II. p. 42. 

This is the whole of another — 



WORDSWORTH'S POEMS 39 

' My heart leaps up when I behold 

A rainbow in the sky : 
So was it when my life began; 
So is it now I am a man ; 
So be it when I shall grow old, 

Or let me die ! 
The child is father of the man ; 
And I could wish my days to be 
Bound each to each by natural piety.' II. p. 44. 

A third, ' on a Sparrow's Nest,' runs thus — 

' Look, five blue eggs are gleaming there ! 
Few visions have I seen more fair, 
Nor many prospects of delight 
More pleasing than that simple sight.' II. p. 53. 

The charm of this fine prospect, however, was, that 
it reminded him of another nest which his sister EmmeUne 
and he had visited in their childhood. 

'She look'd at it as if she fear'd it; 
Still wishing, dreading to be near it : 
Such heart was in her, being then 
A little prattler among men,' &c., &c. II. p. 54. 

We have then a rapturous mystical ode to the Cuckoo ; 
in which the author, striving after force and originality, 
produces nothing but absurdity. 

' O cuckoo ! shall I call thee bird. 
Or but a wandering voice?' II. p. 57. 

And then he says, that the said voice seemed to pass 
from hill to hill, ' about and all about !' — Afterwards he 
assures us, it tells him ' in the vale of visionary hours,' 
and calls it a darling; but still insists, that it is 

' No bird ; but an invisible thing, 
A voice, — a mystery.' II. p. 58. 



40 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

It is afterwards ' a hope ;' and ' a love ;' and, finally, 

' O blessed bird ! the earth we pace 
Again appears to be 
An unsubstantial, faery place, 
That is fit home for thee !' II. p. 59. 

After this there is an address to a butterfly, whom he 
invites to visit him, in these simple strains — 

'This plot of orchard-ground is ours; 
My trees they are, my sister's flowers ; 
Stop here whenever you are weary.' II. p. 6r. 

We come next to a long story of a ' Blind Highland 
Boy,' who lived near an arm of the sea, and had taken a 
most unnatural desire to venture on that perilous ele- 
ment. His mother did all she could to prevent him ; but 
one morning, when the good woman was out of the way, 
he got into a vessel of his own, and pushed out from the 
shore. 

' In such a vessel ne'er before 
Did human creature leave the shore.' II. p. 72. 

And then we are told, that if the sea should get rough, 
* a bee-hive would be ship as safe.' ' But say, what is 
it?' a poetical interlocutor is made to exclaim most 
naturally; and here followeth the answer, upon which all 
the pathos and interest of the story depend. 

'A Household Tub, like one of those 
Which w'omen use to wash their clothes ! !' I. p. 72. 

This, it will be admitted, is carrying the matter as far 
as it will well go ; nor is there anything, — down to the 
wiping of shoes, or the evisceration of chickens, — which 
may not be introduced in poetry, if this is tolerated. A 
boat is sent out and brings the boy ashore, who being 



WORDSWORTH'S POEMS 4i 

tolerably frightened we suppose, promises to go to sea no 
more; and so the story ends. 

Then we have a poem, called ' the Green Linnet,' which 
opens with the poet's telling us ; 

'A whispering leaf is now my joy. 
And then a bird will be the toy 

That doth my fancy tether.' II. p. 79. 

and closes thus — 

' While thus before my eyes he gleams, 
A brother of the leaves he seems ; 
When in a moment- forth he teems 

His little song in gushes : 
As if it pleas'd him to disdain 
And mock the form which he did feign. 
While he was dancing with the train 

Of leaves among the bushes.' II. p. 81. 

The next is called ' Star Gazers.' A set of people 
peeping through a telescope, all seem to come away dis- 
appointed with the sight; whereupon thus sweetly moral- 
izeth our poet. 

'Yet, showman, where can lie the cause? Shall thy implement 
have blame, 
A boaster, that when he is tried, fails, and is put to shame? 
Or is it good as others are, and be their eyes in fault? 
Their eyes, or minds? or, finally, is this resplendent vault? 

Or, is it rather, that conceit rapacious is and strong, 
And bounty never yields so much but it seems to do her wrong? 
Or is it, that when human souls a journey long have had. 
And are returned into themselves, they cannot but be sad?' 

—II. p. 88. 

.There are then some really sweet and amiable verses on 
a French lady, separated from her own children, fondling 
the baby of a neighbouring cottager; — after which we 



42 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

have this quintessence of unmeaningness, entitled, ' Fore- 
sight.' 

' That is work which I am rueing — 
Do as Charles and I are doing! 
Strawberry-blossoms, one and all, 
We must spare them — here are many: 
Look at it — the flower is small. 
Small and low, though fair as any: 
Do not touch it ! Summers two 
I am older, Anne, than you. 
Pull the primrose, sister Anne ! 
Pull as many as you can. 

Primroses, the spring may love them — 

Summer knows but little of them: 

Violets, do what they will, 

Wither'd on the ground must lie: 

Daisies will be daisies still ; 

Daisies they must live and die: 

Fill your lap, and fill your bosom, 

Only spare the strawberry-blossom!' II. p. 115, 116. 

Afterwards come some stanzas about an echo repeating 
a cuckoo's voice ; here is one for a sample — 

'Whence the voice? from air or earth? 
This the cuckoo cannot tell; 
But a startling sound had birth. 
As the bird must know full well.' II. p. 123. 

Then we have Elegiac stanzas ' to the Spade of a 
friend,' beginning — 

' Spade ! with which Wilkinson hath till'd his lands,' 

— but too dull to be quoted any further. 

After this there is a Minstrel's Song, on the Restoration 
of Lord Clifford the Shepherd, which is in a very different 
strain of poetry; and then the volume is wound up with 
an ' Ode,' with no other title but the motto, Paulo majora 



WORDSWORTH'S POEMS 43 

canamiis. This is, beyond all doubt, the most illegible 
and unintelligible part of the publication. We can pre- 
tend to give no analysis or explanation of it ; — our readers 
must make what they can of the following extracts. 

' But there's a tree, of many one, 

A single field which I have look'd upon. 

Both of them speak of something that is gone : 

The pansy at my feet 

Doth the same tale repeat : 
Whither is fled the visionary gleam? 
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?' II. 150. 



O joy ! that in our embers 
Is something that doth live, 
That nature yet remembers 
What was so fugitive! 
The thought of our past j^ears in me doth breed 
Perpetual benedictions : not indeed 
For that which is most worthy to be blest : 
Delight and libertj', the simple creed 
Of childhood, whether fluttering or at rest. 
With new-born hope forever in his breast : — 
Not for these I raise 
The song of thanks and praise; 
But for those obstinate questionings 
Of sense and outward things, 
Fallings from us, vanishings; 
Blank misgivings of a creature 
Moving about in worlds not realiz'd. 
High instincts, before which our mortal nature 
Did tremble like a guilty thing surpriz'd : 
But for those first affections. 
Those shadowy recollections, 

Which be they what they may. 
Are yet the fountain light of all our day. 
Are yet a master light of all our feeling 

Uphold us, cherish us, and make 
Our noisy years seem moments in the being 



44 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

Of the eternal silence: truths that wake, 

To perish never; 
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, 

Nor man nor boy, 
Nor all that is at enmity with joy, 
Can utterly abolish or destroy! 

Hence, in a season of calm weather, 

Though inland far we be, 
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea 

Which brought us hither. 
Can in a moment travel thither, 
And see the children sport upon the shore, 
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.' II. 154-6. 

We have thus gone through this publication, with a 
view to enable our readers to determine, whether the 
author of the verses which have now been exhibited, is 
entitled to claim the honours of an improver or restorer 
of our poetry, and to found a new school to supersede or 
new-model all our maxims on this subject. If we were 
to stop here, we do not think that Mr Wordsworth, or 
his admirers, would have any reason to complain ; for 
what we have now quoted is undeniably the most peculiar 
and characteristic part of his publication, aiid must be 
defended and applauded if the merit or originality of 
his system is to be seriously maintained. In our own 
opinion, however, the demerit of that system cannot be 
fairly appretiated, until it be shown, that the author of 
the bad verses which we have already extracted, can write 
good verses when he pleases ; and that, in point of fact, he 
does always write good verses, when, by any accident, he 
is led to abandon his system, and to transgress the laws 
of that school which he would fain establish on the ruin 
of all existing authority. 

The length to which our extracts and observations have 
already extended, necessarily restrains us within more 



WORDSWORTH'S POEMS 45 

narrow limits in this part of our citations ; but it will not 
require much labour to find a pretty decided contrast to 
some of the passages we have already detailed. The song 
on the restoration of Lord Clifford is put into the mouth 
of an ancient minstrel of the family ; and in composing it, 
the author was led, therefore, almost irresistibly to adopt 
the manner and phraseology that is understood to be 
connected with that sort of composition, and to throw 
aside his own babyish incidents and fantastical sensibili- 
ties. How he has succeeded, the reader will be able to 
judge from the few following extracts. 

[Quotes fifty-six lines of Lord Clifford.] 

All English writers of sonnets have imitated Milton; 
and, in this way, Air Wordsworth, when he writes son- 
nets, escapes again from the trammels of his own unfortu- 
nate system ; and the consequence is, that his sonnets are 
as much superior to the greater part of his other poems, as 
Milton's sonnets are superior to his. 

[Quotes the sonnets On the Extinction of the Venetian Re- 
public, London, and / griev'd for Buonaparte.] 

When we look at these, and many still finer passages, 
in the writings of this author, it is impossible not to feel 
a mixtures of indignation and compassion, at that strange 
infatuation which has bound him up from the fair exer- 
cise of his talents, and withheld from the public the many 
excellent productions that would otherwise have taken the 
place of the trash now before us. Even in the worst of 
these productions, there are, no doubt, occasional little 
traits of delicate feeling and original fancy ; but these are 
quite lost and obscured in the mass of childishness and 
insipidity with which they are incorporated ; nor can any 
thing give us a more melancholy view of the debasing 



46 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

effects of this miserable theory, than that it has given 
ordinary men a right to wonder at the folly and pre- 
sumption of a man gifted like Mr Wordsworth, and 
made him appear, in his second avowed publication, like 
a bad imitator of the worst of his former productions. 

We venture to hope, that there is now an end of this 
folly; and that, like other follies, it will be found to have 
cured itself by the extravagances resulting from its un- 
bridled indulgence. In this point of view, the publication 
of the volumes before us may ultimately be of service to 
the good cause of literature. Many a generous rebel, it is 
said, has been reclaimed to his allegiance by the spectacle 
of lawless outrage and excess presented in the conduct of 
the insurgents ; and we think there is every reason to 
hope, that the lamentable consequences which have re- 
sulted from Mr Wordsworth's open violation of the 
established laws of poetry, will operate as a wholesome 
warning to those who might otherwise have been seduced 
by his example, and be the means of restoring to that 
antient and venerable code its due honour and authority. 
— The Edinburgh Review. 



Samuel Taylor Coleridge 

Christabel: Kiibla Khan, a Vision. The Pains of Sleep. 

By S. T. Coleridge, Esq. London, Murray, 1816. 

The advertisement by which this work was announced 
to the publick, carried in its front a recommendation from 
Lord Byron, — who, it seems, has somewhere praised 
Christabel, as ' a wild and singularly original and beauti- 
ful poem.' Great as the noble bard's merits undoubtedly 
are in poetr}-, some of his latest publications dispose us to 
distrust his authority, where the question is what ought 
to meet the public eye ; and the works before us afford an 
additional proof, that his judgment on such matters is not 
absolutely to be relied on. IMoreover, we are a little in- 
clined to doubt the value of the praise which one poet 
lends another. It seems now-a-days to be the practice of 
that once irritable race to laud each other without bounds ; 
and one can hardly avoid suspecting, that what is thus 
lavishly advanced may be laid out with a view to being 
repaid with interest. Mr Coleridge, however, must be 
judged by his own merits. 

It is remarked, by the writers upon the Bathos, that the 
true profound is surely known by one qualit}- — its being 
wholly bottomless ; insomuch, that when you think you 
have attained its utmost depth in the work of some of its 
great masters, another, or peradventure the same, aston- 
ishes you, immediately after, by a plunge so much more 
vigorous, as to outdo all his former outdoings. So it 
seems to be with the new school, or, as they may be 
termed, the wild or lawless poets. After we had been 
admiring their extravagance for many years, and mar- 
velling at the ease and rapidity with which one exceeded 

47 



48 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

another in the unmeaning or infantine, until not an idea 
was left in the rhyme — or in the insane, until we had 
reached something that seemed the untamed effusion of an 
author whose thoughts were rather more free than his 
actions — forth steps Mr Coleridge, like a giant refreshed 
with sleep, and as if to redeem his character after so long 
a silence, (' his poetic powers having been, he says, from 
1808 till very lately, in a state of suspended animation,' 
p. V.) and breaks out in these precise words — 

' 'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock, 

And the owls have awaken'd the crowing cock; 

Tu whit ! Tu whoo ! 

And hark, again ! the crowing cock, 

How drowsily it crew.' 
* Sir Leoline, the Baron rich. 

Hath a toothless mastiff bitch; 

From her kennel beneath the rock 

She makes answer to the clock, 

Four for the quarters, and twelve for the hour: 

Ever and aye, moonshine or shower. 

Sixteen short howls, not over loud ; 

Some say she sees my lady's shroud.' 
'Is the night chilly and dark? 

The night is chilly, but not dark.' p. 3, 4. 

It is probable that Lord Byron may have had this pas- 
sage in his eye, when he called the poem ' wild ' and 
' original ;' but how he discovered it to be ' beautiful,' is 
not quite so easy for us to imagine. 

Much of the art of the wild writers consists in sudden 
transitions — opening eagerly upon some topic, and then 
flying from it immediately. This indeed is known to the 
medical men, who not unfrequently have the care of them, 
as an unerring symptom. Accordingly, here we take 
leave of the Mastiff Bitch, and lose sight of her entirely, 
upon the entrance of another personage of a higher degree. 



COLERIDGE'S CHRISTABEL 49 

' The lovely Lady Christabel, 
Whom her father loves so well ' — 

And who, it seems, has been rambling about all night, 
having, the night before, had dreams about her lover, 
which ' made her moan and leap.' While kneeling, in 
the course of her rambles, at an old oak, she hears a noise 
on the other side of the stump, and going round, finds, 
to her great surprize, another fair damsel in white silk, 
but with her dress and hair in some disorder ; at the men- 
tion of whom, the poet takes fright, not, as might be 
imagined, because of her disorder, but on account of her 
beauty and her fair attire — 

' I guess, 'twas frightful there to see 
A lady so richly clad as she — 
Beautiful exceedingly!' 

Christabel naturally asks who she is, and is answered, 
at some length, that her name is Geraldine ; that she was, 
on the morning before, seized by five warriors, who tied 
her on a white horse, and drove her on, they themselves 
following, also on white horses ; and that they had rode 
all night. Her narrative now gets to be a little contra- 
dictory, which gives rise to unpleasant suspicions. She 
protests vehemently, and with oaths, that she has no idea 
who the men were ; only that one of them, the tallest of the 
five, took her and placed her under the tree, and that they 
all went away, she knew not whither; but how long she 
had remained there she cannot tell — 

' Nor do I know how long it is, 
For I have lain in fits, I wis;' 

— although she had previously kept a pretty exact account 
of the time. The two ladies then go home together, after 
this satisfactory explanation, which appears to have con- 
7 



50 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

veyed to the intelligent mind of Lady C. every requisite in- 
formation. They arrive at the castle, and pass the night in 
the same bed-room; not to disturb Sir Leoline, who, it 
seems, was poorly at the time, and, of course, must have 
been called up to speak to the chambermaids, and have the 
sheets aired, if Lady G. had had a room to herself. They 
do not get to their bed, however in the poem, quite so 
easily as we have carried them. They first cross the moat, 
and Lady C. ' took the key that fitted well,' and opened a 
little door, ' all in the middle of the gate.' Lady G. then 
sinks down ' belike through pain ;' but it should seem more 
probably from laziness ; for her fair companion having 
lifted her up, and carried her a little way, she then walks 
on ' as she were not in pain.' Then they cross the court — 
but we must give this in the poet's words, for he seems so 
pleased with them, that he inserts them twice over in the 
space of ten lines. 

' So free from danger, free from fear, 
They crossed the court — right glad they were.' 

Lady C. is desirous of a little conversation on the way, 
but Lady G. will not indulge her Ladyship, saying she is 
too much tired to speak. We now meet our old friend, 
the mastifif bitch, who is much too important a person to 
be slightly passed by — 

* Outside her kennel, the mastiff old 
Lay fast asleep, in moonshine cold. 
The mastiff old did not awake. 
Yet she an angry moan did make! 
And what can ail the mastiff bitch? 
Never till now she uttered yell 
Beneath the eye of Christabel. 
Perhaps it is the owlet's scritch : 
For what can ail the mastiff bitch?' 



COLERIDGE'S CHRIST ABEL 5^ 

Whatever it may be that ails the bitch, the ladies pass 
forward, and take off their shoes, and tread softly all the 
way upstairs, as Christabel observes that her father is a 
bad sleeper. At last, however, they do arrive at the bed- 
room, and comfort themselves with a dram of some home- 
made liquor, which proves to be very old ; for it was made 
by Lady C.'s mother ; and when her new friend asks if 
she thinks the old lady will take her part, she answers, 
that this is out of the question, in as much as she happened 
to die in childbed of her. The mention of the old lady, 
however, gives occasion to the following pathetic couplet. 
— Christabel says, 

' O mother dear, that thou wert here ! 
I would, said Geraldine, she were!' 

A very mysterious conversation next takes place be- 
tween Lady Geraldine and the old gentlewoman's ghost, 
which proving extremely fatiguing to her, she again has 
recourse to the bottle — and with excellent effect, as ap- 
pears by these lines. 

' Again the wild-flower wine she drank ; 
Her fair large eyes 'gan glitter bright, 
And from the floor whereon she sank, 
The lofty Lady stood upright : 

She was most beautiful to see. 

Like a Lady of a far countree.' 

— From which, we may gather among other points, the 
exceeding great beauty of all women who live in a dis- 
tant place, no matter where. The effects of the cordial 
speedily begin to appear ; as no one, we imagine, will 
doubt, that to its influence must be ascribed the following 
speech — 



52 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

' And thus the lofty lady spake — 
All they, who live in the upper sky, 
Do love you, holy Christabel ! 
And you love them — and for their sake 
And for the good which me befel, 
Even I in my degree will try, 
Fair maiden, to requite you well.' 

Before going to bed, Lady G. kneels to pray, and desires 
her friend to undress, and lie down ; which she does ' in 
her loveliness ;' but being curious, she leans ' on her 
elbow,' and looks toward the fair devotee, — where she 
sees something which the poet does not think fit to tell us 
very explicitly, 

' Her silken robe, and inner vest, 
Dropt to her feet, and full in view, 
Behold ! her bosom and half her side — 
A sight to dream of, not to tell ! 
And she is to sleep by Christabel.* 

She soon rises, however, from her knees ; and as it was 
not a double-bedded room, she turns in to Lady Christabel, 

• taking only ' two paces and a stride.' She then clasps 
her tight in her arms, and mutters a very dark spell, which 

, we apprehend the poet manufactured by shaking words 
together at random; for it is impossible to fancy that he 
can annex any meaning whatever to it. This is the end 
of it. 

'But vainly thou warrest. 

For this is alone in 
Thy power to declare. 
That in the dim forest 
Thou heard'st a low moaning. 
And found'st a bright lady, surpassingly fair: 
And didst bring her home with thee in love and in charity, 
To shield her and shelter her from the damp air.' 



COLERIDGE'S CHRISTABEL 53 

The consequence of this incantation is, that Lady 
Christabel has a strange dream — and when she awakes, 
her first exclamation is, ' Sure I have sinn'd ' — ' Now 
heaven be praised if all be well!' Being still perplexed 
with the remembrance of her ' too lively ' dream — she 
then dresses herself, and modestly prays to be forgiven 
for ' her sins unknown.' The two companions now go 
to the Baron's parlour, and Geraldine tells her story to 
him. This, however, the poet judiciously leaves out, and 
only. signifies that the Baron recognized in her the daugh- 
ter of his old friend Sir Roland, with whom he had had 
a deadly quarrel. Now, however, he despatches his tame 
poet, or laureate, called Bard Bracy, to invite him and his 
family over, promising to forgive every thing, and even 
make an apology for what had passed. To understand 
what follows, we own, surpasses our comprehension. Mr 
Bracy, the poet, recounts a strange dream he has just had, 
of a dove being almost strangled by a snake ; whereupon 
the Lady Geraldine falls a hissing, and her eyes grow 
small, like a serpent's, — or at least so they seem to her 
friend ; who begs her father to ' send away that woman.' 
L^pon this the Baron falls into a passion, as if he had dis- 
covered that his daughter had been seduced ; at least, we 
can understand him in no other sense, though no hint of 
such a kind is given ; but on the contrary, she is painted to 
the last moment as full of innocence and purity. — Never- 
theless, 

' His heart was cleft with pain and rage, 
His cheeks they quiver'd, his eyes were wild, 
Dishonour'd thus in his old age; 
Dishonour'd by his only child; 
And all his hospitality 
To th' insulted daughter of his friend 
By more than woman's jealousy. 
Brought thus to a disgraceful end. — ' 



54 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

Nothing further is said to explain the mystery ; but there 
follows incontinently, what is termed ' The conclusion 
of Part the Second.' And as we are pretty confident that 
Mr Coleridge holds this passage in the highest estimation ; 
that he prizes it more than any other part of ' that wild, 
and singularly original and beautiful poem Christabel,' 
excepting always the two passages touching the ' toothless 
mastifif bitch ;' we shall extract it for the amazement of 
our readers — premising our own frank avowal that we are 
wholly unable to divine the meaning of any portion of it. 

' A little child, a limber elf, 
Singing, dancing to itself, 
A fairy thing with red round cheeks, 
That always finds and never seeks; 
Makes such a vision to the sight 
As fills a father's eyes with light; 
And pleasures flow in so thick and fast 
Upon his heart, that he at last 
Must needs express his love's excess 
With words of unmeant bitterness. 
Perhaps 'tis pretty to force together 
Thoughts so all unlike each other; 
To mutter and mock a broken charm, 
To dally with wrong that does no harm 
Perhaps 'tis tender too, and pretty, 
At each wild word to feel within 
A sweet recoil of love and pity. 
And what if in a world of sin 
(O sorrow and shame should this be true!) 
Such giddiness of heart and brain 
Comes seldom save from rage and pain. 
So talks as it's most used to do.' 

Hence endeth the Second Part, and, in truth, the * singu- 
lar ' poem itself ; for the author has not yet written, or, 
as he phrases it, ' embodied in versS,' the ' three parts 
yet to come;' — though he trusts he shall be able to do 
so ' in the course of the present year.' 



COLERIDGE'S CHRIST ABEL 55 

One word as to the metre of Christabel, or, as Mr Cole- 
ridge terms it, ' the Christabel ' — happily enough ; for 
indeed we doubt if the peculiar force of the definite article 
was ever more strongly exemplified. He says, that 
though the reader may fancy there prevails a great irregu- 
larity in the metre, some lines being of four, others of 
twelve syllables, yet in reality it is quite regular; only 
that it is ' founded on a new principle, namely, that of 
counting in each line the accents, not the syllables.' We 
say nothing of the monstrous assurance of any man com- 
ing forward coolly at this time of day, and telling the 
readers of English poetry, whose ear has been tuned to 
the lays of Spenser, Milton, Dryden, and Pope, that he 
makes his metre ' on a new principle !' but we utterly 
deny the truth of the assertion, and defy him to show us- 
any principle upon which his lines can be conceived to 
tally. \\'e give two or three specimens to confound at 
once this miserable piece of coxcombry and shuffling. Let 
our ' wild, and singularly original and beautiful ' author, 
show us how these lines agree either in number of accents 
or of feet. 

' Ah wel-a-day !' 
* For this is alone in — ' 
' And didst bring her home with thee in love and in charity ' — 
' I pray you drink this cordial wine ' — 
' Sir Leoline ' — 

'And found a bright lady surpassingly fair' — 
' Tu — whit ! Tu — whoo !' 

Kiibla Khan is given to the public, it seems, ' at the 
request of a poet of great and deserved celebrity;' — but 
whether Lord Byron, the praiser of ' the Christabel,' or 
the Laureate, the praiser of Princes, we are not informed. 
As far as Mr Coleridge's ' own opinions are concerned,' 
it is published, ' not upon the ground of any poetic 



S6 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

merits,' but ' as a psychological curiosity !' In these 
opinions of the candid author, we entirely concur ; but for 
this reason we hardly think it was necessary to give the 
minute detail which the Preface contains, of the circum- 
stances attending its composition. Had the question re- 
garded ' Paradise Lost' or ' Dryden's Ode,' we could 
not have had a more particular account of the circum- 
stances in which it was composed. It was in the year 
1797, and in the summer season. Mr Coleridge was in 
bad health ; — the particular disease is not given ; but the 
careful reader will form his own conjectures. He had 
retired very prudently to a lonely farm-house ; and who- 
ever would see the place which gave birth to the ' psych- 
ological curiosity,' may find his way thither without a 
guide ; for it is situated on the confines of Somerset and 
Devonshire, and on the Exmoor part of the boundary; 
and it is, moreover, between Porlock and Linton. In that 
farm-house, he had a slight indisposition, and had taken 
an anodyne, which threw him into a deep sleep in his 
chair (whether after dinner or not he omits to state), 
* at the moment that he was reading a sentence in Pur- 
chas's Pilgrims,' relative to a palace of Kubla Khan. 
The effects of the anodyne, and the sentence together, 
were prodigious : They produced the ' curiosity ' now 
before us; for, during his three-hours sleep, Mr Cole- 
ridge * has the most vivid confidence that he could not 
have composed less than from two to three hundred lines.' 
On awaking, he ' instantly and eagerly ' wrote down the 
verses here published ; when he was (he says, ' unfortu- 
nately ' ) called out by a ' person on business from Por- 
lock, and detained by him above an hour;' and when he 
returned the vision was gone. The lines here given smelJ 
strongly, it must be owned, of the anodyne ; and, but that 
an under dose of a sedative produces contrary efifects, we 



COLERIDGE'S CHRIST ABEL 57 

should inevitably have been lulled by them into forgetful- 
ness of all things. Perhaps a dozen more such lines as 
the following would reduce the most irritable of critics to 
a state of inaction. 

'A damsel with a dulcimer 

In a vision once I saw : 

It was an Abyssinian maid 

And on her dulcimer she play'd, 

Singing of Mount Abora. 

Could I revive within me 

Her symphony and song, 

To such a deep delight 'twould win me, 
That with music loud and long, 
I would build that dome in air, 
That sunny dome ! those caves of ice ! 
And all who heard should see them there, 
And all should cry, Beware ! Beware ! 
His flashing eyes, his floating hair ! 
Weave a circle round him thrice, 
And close your eyes with holy dread : 
For he on honey-dew hath fed,' &c. &c. 

There is a good deal more altogether as exquisite — and 
in particular a fine description of a w^ood, ' ancient as the 
hills;' and 'folding sunny spots of greenery!' But we 
suppose this specimen will be sufficient. 

Persons in this poet's unhappy condition, generally feel 
the want of sleep as the worst of their evils ; but there are 
instances, too, in the history of the disease, of sleep being 
attended with new agony, as if the waking thoughts, how 
wild and turbulent soever, had still been under some slight 
restraint, which sleep instantly removed. Mr Coleridge 
appears to have experienced this symptom, if we may 
judge from the title of his third poem, ' The Pains of 
Sleep;' and, in truth, from its composition — which is 
mere raving, without any thing more afifecting than a num- 



58 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

ber of incoherent words, expressive of extravagance and 
incongruity. — We need give no specimen of it. 

Upon the whole, we look upon this publication as one 
of the most notable pieces of impertinence of which the 
press has lately been guilty ; and one of the boldest ex- 
periments that has yet been made on the patience or 
understanding of the public. It is impossible, however, 
to dismiss it, without a remark or two. The other pro- 
ductions of the Lake School have generally exhibited 
talents thrown away upon subjects so mean, that no power 
of genius could ennoble them ; or perverted and rendered 
useless by a false theory of poetical composition. But 
even in the worst of them, if we except the White Doe of 
Mr Wordsworth and some of the laureate odes, there 
were always some gleams of feeling or of fancy. But the 
thing now before us is utterly destitute of value. It ex- 
hibits from beginning to end not a ray of genius ; and we 
defy any man to point out a passage of poetical merit in 
any of the three pieces which it contains, except, perhaps, 
the following lines in p. 32, and even these are not very 
brilliant ; nor is the leading thought original — 

' Alas ! they had been friends in youth ; 
But whispering tongues can poison truth; 
And constancy lives in realms above; 
And life is thorny; and youth is vain; 
And to be wroth with one we love, 
Doth work like madness in the brain.' 

With this one exception, there is literally not one couplet 
in the publication before us which would be reckoned 
poetry, or even sense, were it found in the corner of a 
newspaper or upon the window of an inn. Must we then 
be doomed to hear such a mixture of raving and driv'ling, 
extolled as the work of a ' zvild and original' genius, 
simply because Mr Coleridge has now and then written 



COLERIDGE'S CHRIST ABEL 59 

fine verses, and a brother poet chooses, in his milder mood, 
to laud him from courtesy or from interest? And are such 
panegyrics to be echoed by the mean tools of a political 
faction, because they relate to one whose daily prose is 
understood to be dedicated to the support of all that 
courtiers think should be supported? If it be true that the 
author has thus earned the patronage of those liberal dis- 
pensers of bounty, we can have no objection that they 
should give him proper proofs of their gratitude ; but we 
cannot help wishing, for his sake, as well as our own, that 
they would pay in solid pudding instead of empty praise; 
and adhere, at least in this instance, to the good old sys- 
tem of rewarding their champions with places and pen- 
sions, instead of puffing their bad poetry, and endeavour- 
ing to cram their nonsense down the throats of all the 
loyal and well affected. — The Edinburgh Review. 



Robert Southey 

Madoc, by Robert Southey. 4to. pp. 560. 2I. 2S. 

Boards. Printed at Edinburgh, for Longman and Co., 

London. 1805, 

It has fallen to the lot of this writer to puzzle our 
critical discernment more than once. In the Annual An- 
thology we had reason to complain that it was difficult to 
distinguish his jocular from his serious poetry ; and some- 
times indeed to know his poetry from his prose. He has 
now contrived to manufacture a large quarto, which he 
has styled a poem, but of what description it is no easy 
matter to decide. The title of epic, which he indignantly 
disclaims, we might have been inclined to refuse his pro- 
duction, had it been claimed; and we suppose that Mr. 
Southey would not suffer it to be classed under the mock- 
heroic. The poem of Madoc is not didactic, nor elegiac, 
nor classical, in any respect. Neither is it Macphcrsonic, 
nor Klopstockian, nor Darivinian, — we beg pardon, we 
mean Brookian. To conclude, according to a phrase of 
the last century, which was applied to ladies of ambiguous 
character, it is what it is. — As Mr. Southey has set the 
rules of Aristotle at defiance in his preface, we hope that 
he will feel a due degree of gratitude for this appropriate 
definition of his work. It is an old saying, thoroughly 
descriptive of such an old song as this before us. 

Mr. Southey, however, has not disdained all antient 
precedents in his poem, for he introduces it with this ad- 
vertisement : 

' Come, listen to a tale of times of old! 
Come, for ye know me ! I am he who sung 
The maid of Arc ; and I am he who framed 
60 



SOUTHEY'S MADOC 6i 

Of Thalaba the wild and wonderous song. 

Come, listen to my lay, and ye shall hear 

How Madoc from the shores of Britain spread 

The adventurous sail, explored the ocean ways, 

And quelled barbarian power, and overthrew 

The bloody altars of idolatry. 

And planted in its fanes triumphantly 

The cross of Christ. Come, listen to my lay !' 

This modest ostentation was certainly derived from the 
verses imputed to Virgil ; 

" Ille ego, qui quondam gracili modulatus avena 
Carmen ; et egressus sylvis, vicina coegi 
Ut quamvis avido parerent arva colono, 
Gratum opus agricolis : at nunc horrentia Martis, &c." 

In the very first part of the poem, also, we find Air. 
Southey pursuing the Horatian precept, " proriimpere in 
medias res;" for he commences with the return of Madoc 
to his native country. It is true that, like the Messenger 
in Macklin's tragedy, he " goes but to return ;" and the 
critic is tempted to say, with Martial, toto carere possum. 
— Thus the grand interest of the work, which ought to 
consist in exploring a new world, is destroyed at once, by 
the reader at his outset encountering the heroes returning 
" sound, wind and limb," to their native country. It may 
be said that Camoens has thrown a great part of Da 
Gama's Voyage into the form of a narrative : but he has 
also given much in description ; enough, at least, to have 
justified Mr. Southey in commencing rather nearer the 
commencement of his tale. 

That he might withdraw himself entirely from the yoke 
of Aristotle, ^Nlr. Southey has divided his poem into two 
parts, instead of giving it a beginning, a middle and an 
end. One of these parts is concisely entitled, ' Madoc in 
Wales ;' the other, ' ]\Iadoc in Aztlan.' A middle might, 



62 THE MONTHLY REVIEW 

however, have been easily found, by adding, Madoc on 
Shipboard. — The first of these Anti Peripatetic parts con- 
tains i8 divisions ; the second, 27 which include every in- 
cident, episode, &c. introduced into the poem. This 
arrangement gives it very much the appearance of a jour- 
nal versified, and effectually precludes any imputation of 
luxuriance of fancy in the plot. 

Respecting the manners, Mr. Southey appears to have 
been more successful than in his choice of the story. He 
has adhered to history where he could discover any facts 
adapted to his purpose ; and when history failed him, he 
has had recourse to probability. Yet we own that the 
nomenclature of his heroes has shocked what Mr. S. would 
call our prejudices. Gocrvyl and Ririd and Rodri and 
Llaian may have charms for Cambrian ears, but who can 
feel an interest in Tczozomoc, Tlalala, or Ocelopan? Or, 
should 

' Tyneio, jMerini, 



Boda and Brenda and Aelgyvarch, 
Gwynon and Celynin and Gwynodyl,' (p. 129.) 
" Those rugged names to onr like mouths grow sleek. 
That would have made Quintilian stare and gasp,*" 

how could we swallow Yiihidthiton, Coanocotzin, and, 
above all, the yawning jaw-dislocating Ayayacaf — These 
torturing words, particularly the latter, remind us so 
strongly of the odious cacophony of the Nurse and Child, 
that they really are not to be tolerated. Mr. Southey's de- 
fence (for he has partially anticipated this objection) is that 
the names are conformable to history or analogy, which we 
are not inclined to dispute : but it is not requisite to tread 
so closely in the traces of barbarity. Truth does not con- 
stitute the essence of poetry : but it is indispensably neces- 
sary that the lines should be agreeable to the ear, as well 

* Milton. 



SOUTHEY'S MADOC 63 

as to the sense. Sorry, indeed, we are to complain that Mr. 
Southey, in attempting a new method of writing, — in pro- 
fessing to set aside the old models, and to promote his own 
work to a distinguished place in the library, — has failed 
to interest our feelings, or to excite our admiration. The 
dull tenor of mediocrity, which characterizes his pages, 
is totally unsuitable to heroic poetry, regular or irregular. 
Instead of viewing him on a fiery Pegasus, and " snatch- 
ing a grace beyond the reach of art," we behold the author 
mounted on a strange animal, something between a rough 
Welsh poney and a Peruvian sheep, whose utmost capriole 
only tends to land him in the mud. We may indeed 
safely compliment Mr. Southey, by assuring him that there 
is nothing in Homer, Virgil, or Milton, in any degree re- 
sembling the beauties of Madoc. 

Whether the expedition of Madoc, and the existence of 
a Welsh tribe in America, be historically true, it is not 
our present business to examine. It is obvious, however, 
that one great object of the poem, the destruction of the 
altars of idolatry, had failed ; for it is not pretended that 
the supposed descendants of IMadoc remained Christians. 

We shall now make some extracts from this poem, 
which will enable our readers to judge whether we have 
spoken too severely of Mr. Southey 's labours. 

[Quotes 270 lines of Madoc with interpolated comments.] 

If the perusal of these and the preceding verses should 
tempt any of our readers to purchase ]\Ir. Southey 's 
volume, we can warrant equal entertainment in all its 
other parts, and shall heartily wish the gentleman all 
happiness with his poet. — To us, there appears a thorough 
perversion of taste, in the conception and execution of the 
whole ; and we are disgusted with the tameness of the 
verse, the vulgarity of the thoughts, and the barbarity of 



64 THE MONTHLY REVIEW 

the manners. If this style of writing be continued, we 
may expect not only the actions of Vindomarus or Ario- 
vistus to be celebrated, but we may perhaps see the history 
of the Cherokees, Choctaws, and Catabaws, versified in 
quarto. The name of Atakulla-kulla would not be inhar- 
monious, compared with some of Mr. Southey's heroes. 
Indeed, a very interesting poem might be founded on the 
story of Pocahuntas, as it is detailed by Smith, in his His- 
tory of the Settlement of Virginia ; and if Mr. Southey 
should meditate another irruption into the territories of 
the Muse, we would recommend this subject to his atten- 
tion. 

It must be remarked that this is a very handsome and 
elegantly printed book, with engraved title-pages, vig- 
nettes, &c. and had the poet equalled the printer, his 
work might have stood on the same shelf with those of 
our most admired writers. — The Monthly Review. 



Charles Lamb 

Blank Verse, by Charles Lloyd, and Charles Lamb. 

i2mo. 2s. 6d. Boards. Arch. 1798. 

Dr. Johnson, speaking of blank verse, seemed to have 
adopted the opinion of some great man, — we forget 
whom, — that it is only " poetry to the eye." On perusing 
the works of several modern bards of our own country, 
we have sometimes rather inclined to the same idea, but 
the recollection of iSIilton and Thomson presently 
banished it. 

We have more than once delivered our sentiments re- 
specting the poetry of Mr. Charles Lloyd. To what we 
have formerly remarked, in general on this head, we have 
little to add on the present occasion ; except that we begin 
to grow weary of his continued inclancf)Olp strains. 
Why is this ingenious writer so uncomfortably constant to 
the mournful Muse? If he has any taste for variety, he 
has little to fear from jealousy in the sacred sisterhood. 
— Then why not sometimes make his bow to Thalia? 

Mr. Lamb, the joint author of this little volume, seems 
to be very properly associated with his plaintive com- 
panion. — The Monthly Review. 



65 



Album Verses, zvitJi a fezi' others. By Charles Lamb. 

i2mo. pp. 150. London, 1830. Moxon. 

If any thing could prevent our laughing at the present 
collection of absurdities, it would be a lamentable convic- 
tion of the blinding and engrossing nature of vanity. We 
could forgive the folly of the original composition, but 
cannot but marvel at the egotism which has preserved, and 
the conceit which has published. What exaggerated 
notion must that man entertain of his talents, who believes 
their slightest efforts worthy of remembrance ; one who 
keeps a copy of the verses he writes in young ladies' 
albums, the proverbial receptacles for trash ! Here and 
there a sweet and natural thought intervenes ; but the chief 
part is best characterized by that expressive though un- 
gracious word " rubbish." And what could induce our 
author to trench on the masculine and vigorous Crabbe? 
did he think his powerful and dark outlines might with 
advantage be turned to " prettiness and favour?" But 
let our readers judge from the following specimens. The 
first is from the album of Mrs. Jane Towers. 

" Conj ecturing, I wander in the dark, 
I know thee only sister to Charles Clarke !" 

Directions for a picture — 

"You wished a picture, cheap, but good; 
The colouring? decent; clear, not muddy; 
To suit a poet's quiet study." 

The subject is a child — 

" Thrusting his fingers in his ears, 
Like Obstinate, that perverse funny one, 
In honest parable of Bunyan."' 
66 



LAMB'S ALBUM VERSES 67 

We were not aware of " Obstinate's " fun before. 
An epitaph : — 

"On her bones the turf lie lightly, 
And her rise again be brightly ! 
No dark stain be found upon her — 
No, there will not, on mine honour — 
Answer that at least I can." 

Or what is the merit of the ensuing cpicedium ? 

[Quotes 48 lines beginning: — 

There's rich Kitty Wheatley, 
With footing it featly, etc.] 

Mr. Lamb, in his dedication, says his motive for pub- 
lishing is to benefit his pubHsher, by affording him an 
opportunity of shewing how he means to bring out works. 
We could have dispensed with the specimen ; though it is 
but justice to remark on the neat manner in which the 
work is produced : the title-page is especially pretty. — The 
Literary Gazette. 



Walter Savage Landor 

Gehir; a Poem, in Seven Books. i2mo. 74 pp. Riv- 

ingtons. 1798. 

How this Poem, which appears to issue from the same 
publishers as our own work, so long escaped our notice, 
we cannot say. Still less are we able to guess at the 
author, or his meaning. In a copy lately lent to us, as a 
matter we had overlooked, we observe the following very 
apposite quotation, inscribed on the title-page, by some 
unknown hand : 

Some love the verse 

Which read, and read, you raise your eyes in doubt, 
And gravely wonder what it is about. 

Among persons of that turn of mind, the author must 
look for the ten admirers who, as he says, would satisfy 
his ambition ; but whether they could have the qualities of 
taste and genius, which he requires, is with us a matter of 
doubt. Turgid obscurity is the general character of the 
composition, with now and then a gleam of genuine poetry, 
irradiating the dark profound. The effect of the perusal 
is to give a kind of whirl to the brain, more like distraction 
than pleasure ; and something analogous to the sensation 
produced, when the end of the finger is rubbed against the 
parchment of the tambourine. — The British Critic. 



68 



Gchir; a Poem, in Seven Books. 8vo. pp. 74. 2s. 6d. 

Rivingtons. 1798. 

An unpractised author has attempted, in this poem, the 
difficult task of relating a romantic story in blank-verse. 
His performance betrays all the incorrectness and abrupt- 
ness of inexperience, but it manifests occasionally some 
talent for description. He has fallen into the common 
error of those who aspire to the composition of blank- 
verse, by borrowing too many phrases and epithets from 
our incomparable Milton. We give the following extract, 
as affording a fair specimen : 

[Quotes about 60 lines from the beginning of the fifth and sixth 
books of Gebir.] 

We must observe that the story is told very obscurely, 
and should have been assisted by an Argument in prose. 
Young writers are often astonished to find that passages, 
which seem very clear to their own heated imaginations, 
appear very dark to their readers. — The author of the 
poem before us may produce something worthy of more 
approbation, if he will labour hard, and delay for a few 
years the publication of his next performance. — The 
Monthly Review, 



69 



Sir Walter Scott 

Marmion; a Talc of Floddcn Field. By Walter Scott, 
Esq. 4to. pp. 500. Edinburgh and London, 1808. 
There is a kind of right of primogeniture among books, 
as well as among men ; and it is difficult for an author, 
who has obtained great fame by a first publication, not to 
appear to fall ofif in a second — especially if his original 
success could be imputed, in any degree, to the novelty of 
his plan of composition. The public is always indulgent 
to untried talents; and is even apt to exaggerate a little 
the value of what it receives without any previous expecta- 
tion. But, for this advance of kindness, it usually exacts 
a most usurious return in the end. When the poor author 
comes back, he is no longer received as a benefactor, but a 
debtor. In return for the credit it formerly gave him, 
the world now conceives that it has a just claim on him 
for excellence, and becomes impertinently scrupulous as 
to the quality of the coin in which it is to be paid. 

The just amount of this claim plainly cannot be for 
more than the rate of excellence which he had reached 
in his former production ; but, in estimating this rate, 
various errors are perpetually committed, which increase 
the difficulties of the task which is thus imposed on him. 
In the Urst place, the comparative amount of his past and 
present merits can only be ascertained by the uncertain 
standard of his reader's feelings ; and these must always 
be less lively with regard to a second performance ; which, 
with every other excellence of the first, must necessarily 
want the powerful recommendations of novelty and sur- 
prise, and consequently fall very far short of the eflfect 
oroduced by their strong cooperation. In the second 

70 



SCOTT'S MARMION n 

place, it may be observed, in general, that wherever our 
impression of any work is favourable on the whole, its ev- 
cellence is constantly exaggerated, in those vague and 
habitual recollections which form the basis of subsequent 
comparisons. We readily drop from our memory the 
dull and bad passages, and carry along with us the remem- 
brance of those only which had afforded us delight. Thus, 
when we take the merit of any favourite poem as a stand- 
ard of comparison for some later production of the same 
author, we never take its true average merit, which is 
the only fair standard, but the merit of its most striking 
and memorable passages, which naturally stand forward 
in our recollection, and pass upon our hasty retrospect as 
just and characteristic specimens of the whole work; and 
this high and exaggerated standard we rigorously apply to 
the first, and perhaps the least interesting parts of the sec- 
ond performance. Finally, it deserves to be noticed, that 
wdiere a first work, containing considerable blemishes, has 
been favourably received, the public always expects this 
indulgence to be repaid by an improvement that ought not 
to be always expected. If a second performance appear, 
therefore, with the same faults, they will no longer meet 
with the same toleration. Alurmurs will be heard about 
indolence, presumption, and abuse of good nature ; while 
the critics, and those who had gently hinted at the neces- 
sity of correction, will be more out of humour than the rest 
at this apparent neglect of their admonitions. 

For these, and for other reasons, we are inclined to sus- 
pect, that the success of the work now before us will be 
less brilliant than that of the author's former publication, 
though we are ourselves of opinion, that its intrinsic merits 
are nearly, if not altogether, equal ; and that, if it had had 
the fortune to be the elder born, it would have inherited as 
fair a portion of renown as has fallen to the lot of its pre- 



72 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

decessor. It is a good deal longer, indeed, and somewhat 
more ambitious ; and it is rather clearer that it has greater 
faults, than that it has greater beauties ; though, for our 
own parts, we are inclined to believe in both propositions. 
It has more tedious and flat passages, and more ostentation 
of historical and antiquarian lore ; but it has also greater 
richness and variety, both of character and incident; and 
if it has less sweetness and pathos in the softer passages, 
it has certainly more vehemence and force of colouring 
in the loftier and busier representations of action and 
emotion. The place of the prologuizing minstrel is but 
ill supplied, indeed, by the epistolary dissertations which 
are prefixed to each book of the present poem ; and the 
ballad pieces and mere episodes which it contains, have 
less finish and poetical beauty ; but there is more airiness 
and spirit in the lighter delineations ; and the story, if not 
more skilfully conducted, it at least better complicated, 
and extended through a wider field of adventure. The 
characteristics of both, however, are evidently the same; 
— a broken narrative — a redundancy of minute descrip- 
tion — bursts of unequal and energetic poetry — and a gen- 
eral tone of spirit and animation, unchecked by timidity or 
afifectation, and unchastised by any great delicacy of taste, 
or elegance of fancy. 

But though we think this last romance of Mr Scott's 
about as good as the former, and allow that it affords great 
indications of poetical talent, we must remind our readers, 
that we never entertained much partiality for this sort of 
composition, and ventured on a former occasion to express 
our regret, that an author endowed with such talents 
should consume them in imitations of obsolete extrava- 
gance, and in the representation of manners and senti- 
ments in which none of his reader^ can be supposed to take 
much interest, except the few who can judge of their 



SCOTT'S M ARM ION 73 

exactness. To write a modern romance of chivalry, seems 
to be much such a fantasy as to build a modern abbey, or 
an English pagoda. For once, however, it may be ex- 
cused as a pretty caprice of genius ; but a second produc- 
tion of the same sort is entitled to less indulgence, and 
imposes a sort of duty to drive the author from so idle a 
task, by a fair exposition of the faults which are in a man- 
ner inseparable from its execution. To enable our readers 
to judge fairly of the present performance, we shall first 
present them with a brief abstract of the story ; and then 
endeavour to point out what seems to be exceptionable, 
and what is praiseworthy, in the execution. 

[Here follows a detailed outline of the plot of Mannion.] 

Now, upon this narrative, we are led to observe, in the 
first place, that it forms a very scanty and narrow founda- 
tion for a poem of such length as is now before us. There 
is scarcely matter enough in the main story for a ballad of 
ordinary dimensions ; and the present work is not so 
properly diversified with episodes and descriptions, as 
made up and composed of them. No long poem, however, 
can maintain its interest without a connected narrative. 
It should be a grand historical picture, in which all the 
personages are concerned in one great transaction, and not 
a mere gallery of detailed groupes and portraits. When 
we accompany the poet in his career of adventure, it is not 
enough that he points out to us, as we go along, the 
beauties of the landscape, and the costumes of the inhab- 
itants. The people must do something after they are de- 
scribed, and they must do it in concert, or in opposition to 
each other ; while the landscape, with its castles and woods 
and defiles, must serve merely as the scene of their ex- 
ploits, and the field of their conspiracies and contentions. 
There is too little connected incident in Marmion, and a 
great deal too much gratuitious description. 



74 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

In the second place, we object to the whole plan and 
conception of the fable, as turning mainly upon incidents 
unsuitable for poetical narrative, and brought out in the 
denouement in a very obscure, laborious, and imperfect 
manner. The events of an epic narrative should all be of a 
broad, clear, and palpable description ; and the difficulties 
and embarrassments of the characters, of a nature to be 
easily comprehended and entered into by readers of all 
descriptions. Now, the leading incidents in this poem are 
of a very narrow and peculiar character, and are woven 
together into a petty intricacy and entanglement which 
puzzles the reader instead of interesting him, and fatigues 
instead of exciting his curiosity. The unaccountable con- 
duct of Constance, in first ruining De Wilton in order to 
forward ]\Iarmion's suit with Clara, and then trying to 
poison Clara, because Ivlarmion's suit seemed likely to suc- 
ceed with her — but, above all, the paltry device of the 
forged letters, and the sealed packet given vip by Con- 
stance at her condemnation, and handed over by the abbess 
to De Wilton and Lord Angus, are incidents not only un- 
worthy of the dignity of poetry, but really incapable of 
being made subservient to its legitimate purposes. They 
are particularly unsuitable, too, to the age and character of 
the personages to whom they relate ; and, instead of form- 
ing the instruments of knightly vengeance and redress, 
remind us of the machinery of a bad German novel, or of 
the disclosures which might be expected on the trial of a 
pettifogging attorney. The obscurity and intricacy which 
they communicate to the whole story, must be very pain- 
fully felt by every reader who tries to comprehend it ; and 
is prodigiously increased by the very clumsy and inarti- 
ficial manner in which the denouement is ultimately 
brought about by the author. Three several attempts are 
made by three several persons to beat into the head of the 



SCOTT'S MARMION 75 

reader the evidence of De Wilton's innocence, and of Alar- 
niion's gnilt ; first, by Constance in her dying speech and 
confession ; secondly, by the abbess in her conference with 
De Wilton ; and, lastly, by this injured innocent himself, 
on disclosing himself to Clara in the castle of Lord Angus. 
After all, the precise nature of the plot and the detection is 
very imperfectly explained, and we will venture to say, is 
not fully understood by one half those who have fairly 
read through every word of the quarto now before us. 
We would object, on the same grounds, to the whole 
scenery of Constance's condemnation. The subterranean 
chamber, with its low arches, massive walls, and silent 
monks with smoky torches, — its old chandelier in an iron 
chain, — the stern abbots and haughty prioresses, with 
their llowing black dresses, and book of statutes laid on an 
iron table, are all images borrowed from the novels of 
Mrs Ratclift'e [sic] and her imitators. The public, we 
believe, has now supped full of this sort of horrors ; or, if 
any effect is still to be produced by their exhibition, it may 
certainly be produced at too cheap a rate, to be worthy 
the ambition of a poet of original imagination. 

In the third place, we object to the extreme and mon- 
strous improbability of almost all the incidents which go 
to the composition of this fable. We know- very well that 
poetry does not describe what is ordinary ; but the mar- 
vellous, in which it is privileged to indulge, is the mar- 
vellous of permormance, and not of accident. One ex- 
traordinary rencontre or opportune coincidence may be 
permitted, perhaps, to bring the parties together, and wind 
up matters for the catastrophe ; but a writer who gets 
through the whole business of his poem, by a series of 
lucky hits and incalculable chances, certainly manages 
matters in a very economical way for his judgment and 
invention, and will probably be found to have consulted 



76 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

his own ease, rather than the delight of his readers. Now, 
the whole story of Marmion seems to us to turn upon a 
tissue of such incredible accidents. In the first place, it 
was totally beyond all calculation, that Marmion and De 
Wilton should meet, by pure chance, at Norham, on the 
only night which either of them could spend in that 
fortress. In the next place, it is almost totally incredible 
that the former should not recognize his antient rival and 
antagonist, merely because he had assumed a palmer's 
habit, and lost a little flesh and colour in his travels. He 
appears unhooded, and walks and speaks before him ; and, 
as near as we can guess, it could not be more than a year 
since they had entered the lists against each other. Con- 
stance, at her death, says she had lived but three years 
with Marmion ; and, it was not till he tired of her, that he 
aspired to Clara, or laid plots against De Wilton. It is 
equally inconceivable that De Wilton should have taken 
upon himself the friendly office of a guide to his arch 
enemy, and discharged it quietly and faithfully, without 
seeking, or apparently thinking of any opportunity of dis- 
closure or revenge. So far from meditating anything of 
the sort, he makes two several efforts to leave him, when 
it appears that his services are no longer indispensable. 
If his accidental meeting, and continued association with 
Alarmion, be altogether unnatural, it must appear still 
more extraordinary, that he should afterwards meet with 
the Lady Clare, his adored mistress, and the Abbess of 
Whitby, who had in her pocket the written proofs of his 
innocence, in consequence of an occurrence equally acci- 
dental. These two ladies, the only two persons in the uni- 
verse whom it was of any consequence to him to meet, are 
captured in their voyage from Holy Isle, and brought to 
Edinburgh, by the luckiest accident in the world, the very 
day that De Wilton and Marmion make their entry into it. 



SCOTT'S M ARM ION 77 

Nay, the king-, without knowing that they are at all of his 
acquaintance, happens to appoint them lodgings in the 
same stair-case, and to make them travel under his escort ! 
We pass the night combat at Gifford, in which Marmion 
knows his opponent by moonlight, though he never could 
guess at him in sunshine ; and all the inconsistencies of his 
dilatory wooing of Lady Clare. Those, and all the prodi- 
gies and miracles of the story, we can excuse, as within 
the privilege of poetry ; but, the lucky chances we have 
already specified, are rather too much for our patience. 
A poet, we think, should never let his heroes contract such 
great debts to fortune ; especially when a little exertion of 
his own might make them independent of her bounty. 
De Wilton might have been made to seek and watch his 
adversary, from some moody feeling of patient revenge; 
and it certainly would not have been difficult to discover 
motives which might have induced both Clara and the 
Abbess to follow and relieve him, without dragging them 
into his presence by the clumsy hands of a cruizer from 
Dunbar. 

In the fourth place, we think we have reason to com- 
plain of Mr Scott for having made his figuring characters 
so entirely worthless, as to excite but little of our sym- 
pathy, and at the same time keeping his virtuous person- 
ages so completely in the back ground, that we are scarcely 
at all acquainted with them when the work is brought to 
a conclusion. Alarmion is not only a villain, but a mean 
and sordid villain ; and represented as such, without any 
visible motive, and at the evident expense of characteristic 
truth and consistency. His elopement wnth Constance, and 
his subsequent desertion of her, are knightly vices enough, 
we suppose ; but then he would surely have been more 
interesting and natural, if he had deserted her for a 
brighter beauty, and not merely for a richer bride. This 



78 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

was very well for Mr Thomas Inkle, the young mer- 
chant of London ; but for the valiant, haughty, and liberal 
Lord Marmion of Fontenaye and Luttervvard, we do think 
it was quite unsuitable. Thus, too, it was very chivalrous 
and orderly perhaps, for him to hate De Wilton, and to 
seek to supplant him in his lady's love; but, to slip a 
bundle of forged letters into his bureau, was cowardly as 
well as malignant. Now, Marmion is not represented as 
a coward, nor as at all afraid of De Wilton ; on the con- 
trary, and it is certainly the most absurd part of the story, 
he fights him fairly and valiantly after all, and overcomes 
him by mere force of arms, as he might have done at the 
beginning, without having recourse to devices so unsuit- 
able to his general character and habits of acting. By the 
way, we have great doubts whether a convicted traitor, 
like De Wilton, whose guilt was established by written 
evidence under his own hand, was ever allowed to enter 
the lists, as a knight, against his accuser. At all events, 
we are positive, that an accuser, who was as ready and 
willing to fight as Marmion, could never have conde- 
scended to forge in support of his accusation ; and that the 
author has greatly diminished our interest in the story, 
as well as needlessly violated the truth of character, by 
loading his hero with the guilt of this most revolting and 
improbable proceeding. The crimes of Constance are 
multiplied in like manner to such a degree, as both to 
destroy our interest in her fate, and to violate all prob- 
ability. Her elopement was enough to bring on her 
doom ; and we should have felt more for it, if it had 
appeared a little more unmerited. She is utterly debased, 
when she becomes the instrument of Marmion's mur- 
derous perfidy, and the assassin of her unwilling rival. 

De Wilton, again, is too much depressed throughout 
the poem. It is rather dangerous for a poet to chuse a 



SCOTT'S MARMION 79 

hero who has been beaten in fair battle. The readers of 
romance do not like an unsuccessful warrior; but to be 
beaten in a judicial combat, and to have his arms reversed 
and tied on the gallows, is an adventure which can only 
be expiated by signal prowess and exemplary revenge, 
achieved against great odds, in full view of the reader. 
The unfortunate De Wilton, however, carries the stain 
upon him from one end of the poem to the other. He 
wanders up and down, a dishonoured fugitive, in the dis- 
guise of a palmer, through the five first books ; and though 
he is knighted and mounted again in the last, yet we see 
nothing of his performances ; nor is the author merciful 
enough to aft'ord him one opportunity of redeeming his 
credit by an exploit of gallantry or skill. For the poor 
Lady Clare, she is a personage of still greater insipidity 
and insignificance. The author seems to have formed her 
upon the principle of Mr Pope's maxim, that women have 
no characters at all. We find her every where, where she 
has no business to be ; neither saying nor doing any thing 
of the least consequence, but whimpering and sobbing 
over the Matrimony in her prayer book, like a great miss 
from a boarding school ; and all this is the more inex- 
cusable, as she is altogether a supernumerary person in 
the play, who should atone for her intrusion by some bril- 
liancy or novelty of deportment. Matters would have 
gone on just as well, although she had been left behind 
at Whitby till after the battle of Flodden ; and she is 
daggled about in the train, first of the Abbess and then of 
Lord Marmion, for no purpose, that we can see, but to 
afford the author an opportunity for two or three pages 
of indifferent description. 

Finally, we must object, both on critical and on national 
grounds, to the discrepancy between the title and the sub- 
stance of the poem, and the neglect of Scotish feelings 



8o THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

and Scolish character that is manifested throughout. 
Marmion is no more a tale of Flodden Field, than of Bos- 
worth Field, or any other field in history. The story is 
quite independent of the national feuds of the sister king- 
doms; and the battle of Flodden has no other connexion 
with it, than from being the conflict in which the hero 
loses his life. Flodden, however, is mentioned; and the 
preparations for Flodden, and the consequences of it, are 
repeatedly alluded to in the course of the composition. 
Yet we nowhere find any adequate expressions of those 
melancholy and patriotic sentiments which are still all 
over Scotland the accompaniment of those allusions and 
recollections. No picture is drawn of the national feel- 
ings before or after that fatal encounter ; and the day that 
broke for ever the pride and the splendour of his country, 
is only commemorated by a Scotish poet as the period 
when an English warrior was beaten to the ground. 
There is scarcely one trait of true Scotish nationality or 
patriotism introduced in-to the whole poem; and Mr 
Scott's only expression of admiration or. love for the 
beautiful country to which he belongs, is put, if we rightly 
remember, into the mouth of one of his Southern favour- 
ites. Independently of this, we think that too little pains 
is taken to distinguish the Scotish character and manners 
from the English, or to give expression to the general 
feeling of rivalry and mutual jealousy which at that time 
existed between the two countries. 

If there be any truth in what we have now said, it is 
evident that the merit of this poem cannot consist in the 
story. And yet it has very great merit, and various kinds 
of merit, — both in the picturesque representation of visible 
objects, in the delineation of manners and characters, and 
in the description of great and striking events. After 
havine detained the reader so long with our own dull re- 



SCOTT'S M ARM ION 8i 

marks, it will be refreshing to him to peruse a few speci- 
mens of Mr Scott's more enlivening strains. 

[Quotes over six hundred lines of Marmion with brief com- 
ment.] 

The powerfuT poetry of these passages can receive no 
illustration from any praises or observations of ours. It 
is superior, in our apprehension, to all that this author has 
hitherto produced ; and, with a few^ faults of diction, equal 
to any thing that has ever been written upon similar sub- 
jects. Though we have extended our extracts to a very 
unusual length, in order to do justice to these fine concep- 
tions, we have been obliged to leave out a great deal, 
which serves in the original to give beauty and effect to 
what we have actually cited. From the moment the 
author gets in sight of Flodden Field, indeed, to the end 
of the poem, there is no tame writing, and no intervention 
of ordinary passages. He does not once flag or grow 
tedious ; and neither stops to describe dresses and cere- 
monies, nor to commemorate the harsh names of feudal 
barons from the Border. There is a flight of five or six 
hundred lines, in short, in which he never stoops his wing, 
nor wavers in his course; but carries the reader forward 
with a more rapid, sustained, and lofty movement, than 
any Epic bard that we can at present remember. 

From the contemplation of such distinguished excel- 
lence, it is painful to be obliged to turn to the defects and 
deformities which occur in the same composition. But 
this, though a less pleasing, is a still more indispensable 
part of our duty ; and one, from the resolute discharge of 
which, much more beneficial consequences may be ex- 
pected. In the work which contains the fine passages we 
have just quoted, and many of nearly equal beauty, there 
is such a proportion of tedious, hasty, and injudicious 
9 



82 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

composition, as makes it questionable with us, whether it 
is entitled to go down to posterity as a work of classical 
merit, or whether the author will retain, with another 
generation, that high reputation which his genius certainly 
might make coeval with the language. These are the 
authors, after all, whose faults it is of most consequence 
to point out ; and criticism performs her best and boldest 
ofifice, — not when she tramples down the weed, or tears up 
the bramble, — but when she strips the strangling ivy from 
the oak, or cuts out the canker from the rose. The faults 
of the fable we have already noticed at sufficient length. 
Those of the execution we shall now endeavour to enumer- 
ate with greater brevity. 

And, in the Hrst place, we must beg leave to protest, 
in the name of a very numerous class of readers, against 
the insufferable number, and length and minuteness of 
those descriptions of antient dresses and manners, and 
buildings ; and ceremonies, and local superstitions ; with 
which the whole poem is overrun, — which render so many 
notes necessary, and are, after all, but imperfectly under- 
stood by those to whom chivalrous antiquity has not 
hitherto been an object of peculiar attention. We object 
to these, and to all such details, because they are, for the 
most part, without dignity or interest in themselves ; be- 
cause, in a modern author, they are evidently unnatural; 
and because they must always be strange, and, in a good 
degree, obscure and unintelligible to ordinary readers. 

When a great personage is to be introduced, it is right, 
perhaps, to give the reader some notion of his external 
appearance ; and when a memorable event is to be nar- 
rated, it is natural to help the imagination by some pic- 
turesque representation of the scenes with which it is con- 
nected. Yet, even upon such occasions, it can seldom be 
advisable to present the reader with a full inventory of 



SCOTT'S MARMION 83 

the hero's dress, from his shocbuckle to the plume in his 
cap, or to enumerate all the drawbridges, portcullisses, 
and diamond cut stones in the castle. Mr Scott, how- 
ever, not only draws out almost all his pictures in these 
full dimensions, but frequently introduces those pieces of 
Flemish or Chinese painting to represent persons who are 
of no consequence, or places and events which are of no 
importance to the story. It would be endless to go 
through the poem for examples of this excess of minute 
description ; we shall merely glance at the First Canto as 
a specimen. We pass the long description of Lord Mar- 
mion himself, with his mail of Milan steel; the blue 
ribbons on his horse's mane ; and his blue velvet housings. 
We pass also the two gallant squires who ride behind him. 
But our patience is really exhausted, when we are forced 
to attend to the black stockings and blue jerkins of the 
inferior persons in the train, and to the whole process of 
turning out the guard with advanced arms on entering the 
castle. 

' Four men-at-arms came at their backs, 
With halberd, bill, and battle-axe : 
They bore Lord Marmion's lance so strong, 
And led his sumpter mules along, 
And ambling palfrey, zclien at need 
Him listed ease his battle-steed. 
The last, and trustiest of the four, 
On high his forky pennon bore; 
Like swallow's tail, in shape and hue, 
Flutter'd the streamer glossy blue, 
Where, blazoned sable, as before. 
The towering falcon seemed to soar. 
Last, twenty yeomen, two and two. 
In hosen black, and jerkins blue. 
With falcons broider'd on each breast, 
Attended on their lord's behest. 



84 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

'Tis meet that I should tell you now, 
How fairly armed, and ordered how, 

The soldiers of the guard, 
With musquet, pike, and morion, 
To welcome noble Marmion, 

Stood in the Castle-yard ; 
Minstrels and trumpeters were there. 
The gunner held his linstock yare, 

For welcome-shot prepared — 

The guards their morrice pikes advanced, 

The trumpets flourished brave, 
The cannon from the ramparts glanced. 

And thundering welcome gave. 

Two pursuivants, whom tabards deck. 
With silver scutcheon round their neck, 

Stood on the steps of stone, 
By which you reach the Donjon gate. 
And there, with herald pomp and state, 

They hailed Lord Marmion. 
And he, their courtesy to requite. 
Gave them a chain of twelve marks weight, 

All as he lighted down.' p. 29-32. 

Sir Hugh the Heron then orders supper — 

' Now broach ye a pipe of Malvoisie, 
Bring pasties of the doe.' 

— And after the repast is conchided, they have some 
mulled wine, and drink good night very ceremoniously. 

'Lord Marmion drank a fair good rest, 
The Captain pledged his noble guest. 
The cup went round among the rest.'' 

In the morning, again, we are informed that they had 
prayers, and that knight and squire 

' broke their fast 



On rich substantial repast.' 
' Then came the stirrup-cup in course,' &c., &C. 



SCOTT'S MARMION 85 

And thus a whole Canto is filled up with the account of 
a visit and a supper, which lead to no consequences what- 
ever, and are not attended with any circumstances w^hich 
must not have occurred at every visit and supper among 
persons of the same rank at that period. Now, we are 
really at a loss to know, why the mere circumstance of a 
moderate antiquity should be supposed so far to ennoble 
those details, as to entitle them to a place in poetry, which 
certainly never could be claimed for a description of more 
modern adventures. Nobody, we believe, would be bold 
enough to introduce into a serious poem a description of 
the hussar boots and gold epaulets of a commander in 
chief, and much less to particularize the liveries and canes 
of his servants, or the order and array of a grand dinner, 
given even to the cabinet ministers. Yet these things are, 
in their own nature, fully as picturesque, and as interest- 
ing, as the ribbons at the mane of Lord Marmion's horse, 
or his supper and breakfast at the castle of Norham. We 
are glad, indeed, to find these little details in old books, 
whether in prose or verse, because they are there authentic 
and valuable documents of the usages and modes of life 
of our ancestors ; and we arc thankful when we light upon 
this sort of information in an anticnt romance, which com- 
monly contains matter much more tedious. Even there, 
however, we smile at the simplicity which could mistake 
such naked enumerations for poetical description ; and 
reckon them as nearly on a level, in point of taste, with 
the theological disputations that are sometimes introduced 
in the same meritorious compositions. In a modern 
romance, however, these details being no longer authentic, 
are of no value in point of information ; and as the author 
has no claim to indulgence on the ground of simplicity, 
the smile which his predecessors excited is in some danger 
of being turned into a yaw-n. If he wishes sincerely to 



86 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

follow their example, he should describe the manners of 
his own time, and not of theirs. They painted from 
observation, and not from study; and the familiarity and 
naivete of their delineations, transcribed with a slovenly 
and hasty hand from what they saw daily before them, is 
as remote as possible from the elaborate pictures extracted 
by a modern imitator from black-letter books, and 
coloured, not from the life, but from learned theories, or 
at best from mouldy monkish illuminations, and mutilated 
fragments of painted glass. 

But the times of chivalry, it may be said, were more 
picturesque than the present times. They are better 
adapted to poetry ; and everything that is associated with 
them has a certain hold on the imagination, and partakes 
of the interest of the period. We do not mean utterly to 
deny this ; nor can we stop, at present, to assign exact 
limits to our assent : but this we will venture to observe, 
in general, that if it be true that the interest which we 
take in the contemplation of the chivalrous era, arises from 
the dangers and virtues by which it was distinguished, — 
from the constant hazards in which its warriors passed 
their days, and the mild and generous valour with which 
they met those hazards, — joined to the singular contrast 
which it presented between the ceremonious polish and 
gallantry of the nobles, and the brutish ignorance of the 
body of the people : — if these are, as we conceive they are, 
the sources of the charm which still operates in behalf of 
the days of knightly adventure, then it should follow, that 
nothing should interest us, by association with that age, 
but v/hat serves naturally to bring before us those hazards 
and that valour, and gallantry, and ari^tocratical superi- 
ority. Any description, or any imitation of the exploits 
in which those qualities were signalized, will do this most 
effectually. Battles, — ^tournaments, — penances, — deliver- 



SCOTT'S M ARM ION 87 

ance of damsels, — instalments ol knights, &c. — and, inter- 
mixed with these, we must admit some description of 
arms, armorial bearings, castles, battlements, and chapels : 
but the least and lowest oi the whole certainly is the de- 
scription of servants' liveries, and of the peaceful opera- 
tions of eating, drinking, and ordinary ^salutation. These 
have no sensible connexion with the qualities or peculiar- 
ities which have conferred certain poetical privileges on 
the manners of chivalry. They do not enter either neces- 
sarily or naturally into our conception of what is interest- 
ing in those manners ; and, though protected, by their 
strangeness, from the ridicule which would infallibly 
attach to their modern equivalents, are substantially as 
unpoetic, and as little entitled to indulgence from impartial 
criticism. 

We would extend this censure to a larger proportion 
of the work before us than we now choose to mention — 
certainly to all the stupid monkish legends about St Hilda 
and St Cuthbert — to the ludicrous description of Lord 
Gifford's habiliments of divination — and to all the various 
scraps and fragments of antiquarian history and baronial 
biography, which are scattered profusely through the 
whole narrative. These we conceive to be put in purely 
for the sake of displaying the erudition of the author ; and 
poetry, which has no other recommendation, but that the 
substance of it has been gleaned from rare or obscure 
books, has, in our estimation, the least of all possible 
recommendations. Mr Scott's great talents, and the 
novelty of the style in which his romances are written, 
have made even these defects acceptable to a considerable 
part of his readers. His genius, seconded by the omnipo- 
tence of fashion, has brought chivalry again into tem- 
porary favour ; but he ought to know, that this is a taste 
too evidently unnatural to be long prevalent in the mod- 



88 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

em world. Fine ladies and gentlemen now talk, indeed, 
of donjons, keeps, tabards, scutcheons, tressures, caps of 
maintenance, portcullisses, wimples, and we know not 
what besides ; just as they did, in the days of Dr Darwin's 
popularity, of gnomes, sylphs, oxygen, gossamer, poly- 
gynia, and polyandria. That fashion, however, passed 
rapidly away ; and if it be now evident to all the world, 
that Dr Darwin obstructed the extension of his fame, and 
hastened the extinction of his brilliant reputation, by the 
pedantry and ostentatious learning of his poems, Mr Scott 
should take care that a different sort of pedantry does not 
produce the same eft'ects. The world will never be long 
pleased with what it does not readily understand ; and the 
poetry which is destined for immortality, should treat only 
of feelings and events which can be conceived and entered 
into by readers of all descriptions. 

What we have now mentioned is the cardinal fault of 
the work before us ; but it has other faults, of too great 
magnitude to be passed altogether without notice. There 
is a debasing lowness and vulgarity in some passages, 
which we think must be offensive to every reader of deli- 
cacy, and which are not, for the most part, redeemed by 
any vigour or picturesque eft'ect. The venison pasties, 
we think, are of this description ; and this commemoration 
of Sir Hugh Heron's troopers, who 

* Have drunk the monks of St Bothan's ale. 
And driven the beeves of Lauderdale; 
Harried the wives of Greenlaw's goods. 
And given them light to set their hoods.' p. 41. 

The long account of Friar John, though not without 
merit, offends in the same sort ; nor can we easily con- 
ceive, how any one could venture, in a serious poem, to 
speak of 



SCOTT'S MARMION 89 

-' the wind that blows, 



And warms itself against his nose.' 

The speeches of squire Blount, too, are a great deal too 
unpolished for a noble youth aspiring to knighthood. On 
two occasions, to specify no more, he addresses his brother 
squire in these cacophonous lines — 



'St Anton' fire thee! wilt thou stand 
All day with bonnet in thy hand?'" 



And, 

'Stint in thy prate,' quoth Blount, ' thou'dst best, 
And listen to our Lord's behest.' 

Neither can we be brought to admire the simple dignity 
of Sir Hugh the Heron, who thus encourageth his nephew, 

' By my fay, 



Well hast thou spoke — say forth thy say.' 

There are other passages in which the flatness and 
tediousness of the narrative is relieved by no sort of 
beauty, nor elegance of diction, and which form an ex- 
traordinary contrast with the more animated and finished 
portions of the poem. We shall not afflict our readers 
with more than one specimen of this falling off. We 
select it from the Abbess's explanation to De Wilton. 

' De Wilton and Lord Marmion wooed 
Clara de Clare, of Gloster's blood; 
(Idle it were of Whitby's dame. 
To say of that same blood I came;) 
And once, when jealous rage was high, 
Lord Marmion said despiteously, 
Wilton was traitor in his heart, 
And had made league with Martin Swart, 
When he came here on Simnel's part ; 
And only cowardice did restrain 



90 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

His rebel aid on Stokefield's plain, — 
And down he threw his glove: — the thing 
Was tried, as wont, before the king; 
Where frankly did De Wilton own, 
That Swart in Guelders he had known; 
And that between them then there went 
Some scroll of courteous compliment. 
For this he to his castle sent ; 
But when his messenger returned. 
Judge how De Wilton's fury burned! 
For in his packet there were laid 
Letters that claimed disloyal aid, 
And proved King Henry's cause betrayed.* 

— p. 272-274. 

In some other places, ]\Ir Scott's love of variety has 
betrayed him into strange imitations. This is evidently 
formed on the school of Sternhold and Hopkins. 

'Of all the palaces so fair. 
Built for the royal dwelling, 
In Scotland, far beyond compare, 
Linlithgow is excelling.' 

The following is a sort of mongrel between the same 
school, and the later one of Mr Wordsworth. 

' And Bishop Gawin, as he rose. 
Said — Wilton, grieve not for thy woes. 

Disgrace, and trouble; 
For He, who honour best bestows. 

May give thee double.' 

There are many other blemishes, both of taste and of 
diction, which we had marked for reprehension, but now 
think it unnecessary to specify ; and which, with some of 
those we have mentioned, we are willing to ascribe to the 
haste in which much of the poem seems evidently to have 
lieen composed. Mr Scott knows too well what is due to 



SCOTT'S MARMION 9^ 

t'ac public, to make any boast of the rapidity with which 
bis works are written ; but the dates and the extent of his 
successive publications show sufficiently how short a time 
could be devoted to each ; and explain, though they do not 
apologize for, the many imperfections with which they 
have been suffered to appear. He who writes for immor- 
tality should not be sparing of time ; and if it be true, that 
in every thing which has a principle of life, the period of 
gestation and growth bears some proportion to that of the 
whole future existence, the author now before us should 
tremble when he looks back on the miracles of his own 
facility. 

W'e have dwelt longer on the beauties and defects of 
this poem, than we are afraid will be agreeable either to 
the partial or the indifferent ; not only because we look 
upon it as a misapplication, in some degree, of very ex- 
traordinary talents, but because we cannot help consider- 
ing it as the foundation of a new school, which may here- 
after occasion no little annoyance both to us and to the 
public. Mr Scott has hitherto filled the whole stage him- 
self ; and the very splendour of his success has probably 
operated, as yet, rather to deter, than to encourage, the 
herd of rivals and imitators : but if, by the help of the 
good parts of his poem, he succeeds in suborning the ver- 
dict of the public in favour of the bad parts also, and 
establishes an indiscriminate taste for chivalrous legends 
and romances in irregular rhime, he may depend upon 
having as many copyists as Mrs Radcliffe or Schiller, and 
upon becoming the founder of a new schism in the catholic 
poetical church, for which, in spite of all our exertions, 
there will probably be no cure, but in the extravagance of 
the last and lowest of its followers. It is for this reason 
that we conceive it to be our duty to make one strong 
effort to bring back the great apostle of the heresy to the 



92 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

wholesome creed of his instructors, and to stop the insur- 
rection before it becomes desperate and senseless, by per- 
suading the leader to return to his duty and allegiance. 
We admire Mr Scott's genius as much as any of those 
who may be misled by its perversion ; and, like the curate 
and the barber in Don Quixote, lament the day when a 
gentleman of such endowments was corrupted by the 
wicked tales of knight-errantry and enchantment. 

We have left ourselves no room to say any thing of the 
epistolary effusions which are prefixed to each of the 
cantos. They certainly are not among the happiest pro- 
ductions of Mr Scott's muse. They want interest in the 
subjects, and finish in the execution. There is too much 
of them about the personal and private feelings and affairs 
of the author ; and too much of the remainder about the 
most trite commonplaces of politics and poetry. There 
is a good deal of spirit, however, and a good deal of nature 
intermingled. There is a fine description of St Mary's 
loch, in that prefixed to the second canto; and a very 
pleasing representation of the author's early tastes and 
prejudices, in that prefixed to the third. The last, which 
is about Christmas, is the worst ; though the first, con- 
taining a threnody on Nelson, Pitt, and Fox, exhibits a 
more remarkable failure. We are unwilling to quarrel 
with a poet on the score of politics ; but the manner in 
which he has chosen to praise the last of these great men, 
is more likely, we conceive, to give offence to his admirers, 
than the most direct censure. The only deed for which 
he is praised, is for having broken off the negotiation for 
peace ; and for this act of firmness, it is added, Heaven 
rewarded him with a share in the honoured grave of Pitt ! 
It is then said, that his errors should be forgotten, and that 
he died a Briton — a pretty plain insinuation, that, in the 
author's opinion, he did not live one; and just such an 



SCOTT'S MARMION 93 

encomium as he himself pronounces over the grave of his 
villain hero Alarmion. There was no need, surely, to pay 
compliments to ministers or princesses, either in the intro- 
duction or in the body of a romance of the i6th century. 
Yet we have a laboured lamentation over the Duke of 
Brunswick, in one of the epistles; and in the heart of the 
poem, a triumphant allusion to the siege of Copenhagen — 
the last exploit, certainly, of British valour, on which we 
should have expected a chivalrous poet to found his 
patriotic gratulations. We have no business, however, 
on this occasion, with the political creed of the author; 
and we notice these allusions to objects of temporary 
interest, chiefly as instances of bad taste, and additional 
proofs that the author does not always recollect, that a 
poet should address himself to more than one generation. 
— The Edinburgh Review, 



George Gordon, Lord Byron 

Hours of Idleness: A Series of Poems, Original and 
Translated. By George Gordon, Lord Byron, a Minor. 
8vo. pp. 200. Newark. 1807. 

The poesy of this young lord belongs to the class which 
neither gods nor men are said to permit. Indeed, we do 
not recollect to have seen a quantity of verse with so few 
deviations in either direction from that exact standard. 
His effusions are spread over a dead flat, and can no more 
get above or below the level, than if they were so much 
stagnant water. As an extenuation of this offence, the 
noble author is peculiarly forward in pleading minority. 
We have it in the title-page, and on the very back of the 
volume; it follows his name like a favourite part of his 
style. Much stress is laid upon it in the preface, and the 
poems are connected with this general statement of his 
case, by particular dates, substantiating the age at which 
each was written. Now, the law upon the point of 
minority, we hold to be perfectly clear. It is a plea avail- 
able only to the defendant ; no plaintiff can offer it as a 
supplementary ground of action. Thus, if any suit could 
be brought against Lord Byron, for the purpose of com- 
pelling him to put into court a certain quantity of poetry ; 
and if judgment were given against him ; it is highly prob- 
able that an exception w^ould be taken, were he to deliver 
for poetry, the contents of this volume. To this he might 
plead minority; but as he now makes voluntary tender of 
the article, he hath no right to sue, on that ground, for the 
price in good current praise, should the goods be un- 
marketable. This is our view of the law on the point, 
and, we dare to say, so will it be ruled. Perhaps, how- 

94 



BYRON'S HOURS OF IDLENESS 95 

ever, in reality, all that he tells us about his youth, is 
rather with a view to increase our w^onder, than to soften 
our censures. He possibly means to say, ' See how a 
minor can write ! This poem was actually composed by 
a young man of eighteen, and this by one of only sixteen !' 
— But, alas, w-e all remember the poetry of Cowley at ten, 
and Pope at twelve ; and so far from hearing, wnth any 
degree of surprise, that very poor verses w^ere written by 
a youth from his leaving school to his leaving college, in- 
clusive, we really believe this to be the most common of all 
occurrences ; that it happens in the life of nine men in ten 
who are educated in England ; and that the tenth man 
writes better verse than Lord Byron. 

His other plea of privilege, our author rather brings for- 
ward in order to w'a[i]ve it. He certainly, however, does 
allude frequently to his family and ancestors — sometimes 
in poetry, sometimes in notes ; and while giving up his 
claim on the score of rank, he takes care to remember us 
of Dr Johnson's saying, that when a nobleman appears as 
an author, his merit should be handsomely acknowledged. 
In truth, it is this consideration only, that induces us to 
give Lord Byron's poems a place in our review, beside 
our desire to counsel him, that he do forthwith abandon 
poetry, and turn his talents, which are considerable, and 
his opportunities, which are great, to better account. 

With this view, we must beg leave seriously to assure 
him, that the mere rhyming of the final syllable, even when 
accompanied by the presence of a certain number of feet, 
— nay, although (which does not always happen) those 
feet should scan regularly, and have been all counted 
accurately upon the fingers. — is not the whole art of 
poetry. We would entreat him to believe, that a certain 
portion of liveliness, somewhat of fancy, is necessary to 
constitute a poem ; and that a poem in the present day, to 



96 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

be read, must contain at least one thought, either in a little 
degree different from the ideas of former writers, or 
differently expressed. We put it to his candour, whether 
there is any thing so deserving the name of poetry in 
verses like the following, written in 1806, and whether, if 
a youth of eighteen could say any thing so uninteresting 
to his ancestors, a youth of nineteen should publish it. 

' Shades of heroes, farewell ! your descendant, departing 
From the seat of his ancestors, bids you, adieu ! 
Abroad, or at home, your remembrance imparting 
New courage, he'll think upon glory, and you. 

Though a tear dim his eye, at this sad separation, 
'Tis nature, not fear, that excites his regret: 

Far distant he goes, with the same emulation ; 
The fame of his fathers he ne'er can forget. 

That fame, and that memory, still will he cherish. 
He vows, that he ne'er will disgrace your renown; 

Like you will he live, or like you will he perish ; 

When decay'd, may he mingle his dust with your own.' p. 3. 

Now we positively do assert, that there is nothing better 
than these stanzas in the whole compass of the noble 
minor's volume. 

Lord Byron should also have a care of attempting what 
the greatest poets have done before him, for comparisons 
(as he must have had occasion to see at his writing- 
master's) are odious. — Gray's Ode on Eton College, 
should really have kept out the ten hobbling stanzas ' on a 
distant view of the village and school of Harrow.' 

" Where fancy, yet, joys to retrace the resemblance, 
Of comrades, in friendship and mischief allied; 
How welcome to me, your ne'er fading remembrance. 
Which rests in the bosom, though hope is deny'd.' p. 4. 



BYRON'S HOURS OF IDLENESS 97 

In like manner the exquisite lines of Mr Rogers, ' On 
a Tear,' might have warned the noble author off those 
premises, and spared us a whole dozen such stanzas as the 
following. 

* Mild Charity's glow, 
To us mortals below, 
Shows the soul from barbarity clear; 
Compassion will melt. 
Where this virtue is felt, 
And its dew is diffus'd in a Tear. 

The man doom'd to sail, 

With the blast of the gale. 
Through billows Atlantic to steer, 

As he bends o'er the wave, 

Which may soon be his grave, 
The green sparkles bright with a Tear.' p. ii. 

And so of instances in which former poets had failed. 
Thus, we do not think Lord Byron was made for trans- 
lating, during his non-age, Adrian's Address to his Soul, 
when Pope succeeded so indifferently in the attempt. If 
our readers, however, are of another opinion, they may 
look at it. 

' Ah ! gentle, fleeting, wav'ring sprite, 
Friend and associate of this clay ! 
To what unknown region borne, 
Wilt thou now wing thy distant flight? 
No more, with wonted humour gay, 

But pallid, cheerless, and forlorn.' p. 72. 

However, be this as it may, we fear his translations and 
imitations are great favourites with Lord Byron. We 
have thein of all kinds, from Anacreon to Ossian ; and, 
viewing them as school exercises, they may pass. Only, 
why print them after they have had their day and served 
their turn ? And why call the thing in p. 79 a translation, 
10 



98 THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

where tzi'o words (Oeko ?.systv) of the original are ex- 
panded into four Hnes, and the other thing in p. 8i, where 
juLSffovuxTiocg TzoW 6 pat?, is rendered by means of six hob- 
bUng verses ? — As to his Ossianic poesy, we are not very 
good judges, being, in truth, so moderately skilled in that 
species of composition, that we should, in all probability 
be criticizing some bit of the genuine Macpherson itself, 
were we to express our opinion of Lord Byron's rhap- 
sodies. //, then, the following beginning of a ' Song of 
bards,' is. by his Lordship, we venture to object to it, as 
far as we can comprehend it. ' What form rises on the 
roar of clouds, whose dark ghost gleams on the red 
stream of tempests ? His voice rolls on the thunder ; 'tis 
Orla, the brown chief of Otihoma. He was,' &c. After 
detaining this ' brown chief ' some time, the bards con- 
clude by giving him their advice to ' raise his fair locks ;' 
then to ' spread them on the arch of the rainbow ;' and 
* to smile through the tears of the storm.' Of this kind 
of thing there are no less than nine pages ; and we can so 
far venture an opinion in their favour, that they look very 
like ]\Iacpherson ; and we are positive they are pretty 
nearly as stupid and tiresome. 

It is a sort of privilege of poets to be egotists ; but they 
should ' use it as not abusing it ;' and particularly one 
who piques himself (though indeed at the ripe age of 
nineteen), of being 'an infant bard,' — ('The artless 
Helicon I boast is youth;') — should either not know, or 
should seem not to know, so much about his own ancestry. 
Besides a poem above cited on the family seat of the 
Byrons, we have another of eleven pages, on the self- 
same subject, introduced with an apology, 'he certainly 
had no intention of inserting it ;' but really, ' the par- 
ticular request o£ some friends,' &c., &c. It concludes 
with five stanzas on himself, ' the last and youngest of 



BYROX'S HOURS OF IDLENESS 99 

a noble line.' There is a good deal also about his 
maternal ancestors, in a poem on Lachin-y-gair, a moun- 
tain where he spent part of his youth, and might have 
learned that pibroch is not a bagpipe, any more than duet 
means a fiddle. 

As the author has dedicated so large a part of his vol- 
ume to immortalize his employments at school and college, 
we cannot possibly dismiss it without presenting the 
reader with a specimen of these ingenious effusions. In 
an ode with a Greek motto, called Grant:i, we have the 
following magnificent stanzas. 

'There, in apartments small and damp, 
The candidate for college prizes. 
Sits poring by the midnight lamp. 
Goes late to bed, yet early rises. 

Who reads false quantities in Sele, 

Or puzzles o'er the deep triangle; 
Depriv'd of many a wholesome meal, 

In barbarous Latin doom'd to wrangle. 

Renouncing every pleasing page, 

From authors of historic use; 
Preferring to the lettered sage. 

The square of the hypothenuse. 

Still harmless are these occupations. 
That hurt none but the hapless student, 

Compar'd with other recreations 

Which bring together the imprudent.' 
p. 123, 124, 125. 

We are sorry to hear so bad an account of the college 
psalmody as is contained in the following Attic stanzas. 

'Our choir would scarcely be excus'd. 
Even as a band of new beginners; 
All mercy, now, must be refus'd 
To such a set of croaking sinners. 



LcfC. 



loo THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 

If David, when his toils were ended, 

Had heard these blockheads sing before him 

To us, his psalms had ne'er descended. 
In furious mood, he would have tore 'em.' 

p. 126, 127. 

But whatever judgment may be passed on the poems 
of this noble minor, it seems we must take them as we find 
them, and be content ; for they are the last we shall ever 
have from him. He is at best, he says, but an intruder 
into the*groves of Parnassus ; he never lived in a garret, 
like thorough-bred poets ; and ' though he once roved a 
careless mountaineer in the Highlands of Scotland,' he has 
not of late enjoyed this advantage. Moreover, he expects 
no profit from his publication ; and whether it succeeds or 
not ' it is highly improbable, from his situation and pur- 
suits hereafter,' that he should again condescend to be- 
come an author. Therefore, let us take what we get and 
be thankful. What right have we poor devils to be nice? 
We are well off to have got so much from a man of this 
Lord's station, who does not live in a garret, but ' has 
the sway ' of Newstead Abbey. Again we say, let us be 
thankful ; and, with honest Sancho, bid God bless the 
giver, nor look the gift horse in the mouth. — The Edin- 
hurs:h Rcviezu. 



CJiilde Haroldc's Pilgrimage. A Romaitnt. By Lord 
Byron. The Second Edition. London : Murray, 
Fleet Street. 1812, 8vo. pp. 300. Price 12s. 
If the object of poetry is to instruct by pleasing-, then 
every poetical efitort has a double claim upon the attention 
of the Christian observer. For we are anxious that the 
world should be instructed at all rates, and that they 
should be pleased where they innocently may. We are, 
therefore, by no means among those spectators who view 
the occasional ascent of a poetic luminary upon the 
horizon of literature, as a meteoric flash which has no rela- 
tion to ourselves ; but we feel instantly an eager desire to 
find its altitude, to take its bearings, to trace its course, 
and to calculate its influence upon surrounding bodies. 
When especially it is no more an " oaten reed " that is 
blown ; or a " simple shepherd " who blows it ; but when 
the song involves many high and solemn feelings, and a 
man of rank and notoriety strikes his golden harp, we 
feel, at once, that the increased influence of the song de- 
mands the more rigid scrutiny of the critic. 

Lord Byron is the author, beside the book before us, of 
a small volume of poems, which gave little promise, we 
think, of the present work ; and of a satyrical poem, which, 
as far as temper is concerned, did give some promise of it. 
It had pleased more than one critic to treat his Lordship's 
first work in no very courtier-like manner; and especially 
the Lion of the north had let him feel the lashing of his 
angry tail. Not of a temperament to bear calmly even a 
" look that threatened him with insult," his Lordship 
seized the tomahawk of satire, mounted the fiery wings of 
his muse, and, like Bonaparte, spared neither rank, nor 

lOI 



I02 THE CHRISTIAN OBSERVER 

sex, nor age, but converted the republic of letters into one 
universal field of carnage. The volume called English 
Bards and Scotch Reviewers is, in short, to be considered, 
among other works, as one of those playful vessels which 
are said to have accompanied the Spanish armada, 
manned by executioners, and loaded with nothing but 
instruments of torture. 

This second work was of too sanguinary a complexion 
to beget a very pleasant impression upon the public mind ; 
and all men, who wished well to peace, politeness and 
literature, joined in the paean sung by the immediate vic- 
tims of his Lordship's wrath, when he embarked to soften 
his manners, and, as it were, oil his tempers, amidst the 
gentler spirits of more southern climes. Travelling, in- 
deed, through any climes, may be expected to exert this 
mitigating influence upon the mind. Nature is so truly 
gentle, or, to speak more justly, the God of nature dis- 
plays so expansive a benevolence in all his works ; so 
prodigally sheds his blessings " upon the evil and the 
good ;" builds up so many exquisite fabrics to delight the 
eyes of his creatures ; tinges the flowers with such colours, 
and fills the grove with such music ; that anyone who be- 
comes familiar with nature, can scarcely remain angry 
with man. With what mitigating touches the scenery of 
Europe has visited our author, remains to be seen. That 
he did not disarm it of its force by regarding it with a 
cold or contemptuous eye, he himself teaches us — 

" Dear Nature is the kindest mother still. 
Though always changing in her aspect mild; 
From her bare bosom let me take my fill, 
Her never-weaned, though not her favoured child. 
O she is fairest in her features wild, 
Where nothing polished dares pollute her path; 
To me by day or night she ever smiled, 



BYRON'S CHILDE HAROLD 103 

Though I have marked her when none other hath, 
And sought her more and more, and loved her most in wrath." 

—p. 79. 

Our avithor having re-landed upon his native shores, 
his first deed is to present to his country the work before 
us, as the fruits of his travels. It is a kind of poetical 
journal of journeys and voyages through Spain and 
Portugal, along the shores of the Mediterranean and 
Archipelago, and through the states of ancient Greece. 
When we speak of journal, we mean rather to designate 
the topics of the work than the manner of its execution; 
for it is highly poetical. ]\Iost contrary to the spirit of 
those less fanciful records, his Lordship sublimely dis- 
cards ^11 facts and histories ; all incidents ; A, M. and 
P. M. ; and bad inns and worse winds ; and battles and 
feasts. Seizing merely upon the picturesque features in 
every object and event before him, he paints and records 
them with such reflections, moral or immoral, as arise in 
his ardent mind. 

The " Childe Harolde " is the traveller ; and as he is a 
mighty surly fellow, neither loves nor is loved by any one ; 
" through sin's long labyrinth had run, nor made atone- 
ment when he did amiss;" as, moreover, he is licentious 
and sceptical ; Lord Byron very naturally, and creditably 
to himself, sets out in his Preface with disclaiming any 
connection with this imaginary personage. It is some- 
what singular, however, that most of the offensive reflec- 
tions in the poem are made, not by the " Childe," but the 
poet. 

[Here follows a summary of the two cantos, with extensive 
quotations.] 

Having by these extracts endeavoured to put our read- 
ers in possession of some of the finest parts of this poem, 



I04 THE CHRISTIAN OBSERVER 

and also of those passages which determine its moral com- 
plexion, we shall proceed to offer a few remarks upon its 
character and pretensions in both points of view. 

The poem is in the stanza- of Spenser — a stanza of 
which we think it difficult to say whether the excellencies 
or defects are the greatest. The paramount advantage is 
the variety of tone and pause of which it admits. The 
great disadvantages are, the constraint of such compli- 
cated rhymes, and the long suspension of the sense, espe- 
cially in the latter half of the stanza. The noblest con- 
ception and most brilliant diction must be sacrificed, if 
four words in one place, and three in another cannot be 
found rhyming to each other. And as to the suspension 
of the sense, we are persuaded that no man reads a single 
stanza without feeling a sort of strain upon the intellect 
and lungs — a kind of suffocation of '."iiind and body, be- 
fore he can either discover the lingering meaning, or pro- 
nounce the nine lines. To us, we confess that the rhym- 
ing couplets of Mr. Scott, sometimes deviating into alter- 
nate rhymes, are, on both accounts, infinitely preferable. 
One of the ends of poetry is to relax, and the artificial and 
elaborate stanza of Spenser costs us too much trouble, 
even in the reading, to accomplish this end. To effect 
this, the sense should come to us, instead of our going far 
and wide in quest of the sense. In our conception also, 
the heroic line of ten syllables, though favourable to the 
most dignified order of poetry, appears to limp when 
forced into the service of sonneteers : and poems in the 
metre before us, are, after all, little better than a string 
of sonnets ; of which it is the constituent principle to be 
rather pretty than grand — rather tender than martial — 
rather conceited than wise — to keep the sense suspended 
for eight lines, and to discharge it with a point in the 
ninth. These observations are by no means designed to 



BYRON'S CHILDE HAROLD 105 

apply especially to the author — the extreme gravity of 
whose general manner and matter, in a measure covet the 
dignity of the heroic line. But it is this discordancy of 
measure and subject, together with the obviously laboured 
rhymes and the halting of the sense, which in gejneral, we 
think, have shut out the Spenserian school from popular 
reading, and have caused a distinguished critic* to say, 
that the " Faiery Queen will not often be read through ;" 
and that, although it maintains its place upon the shelf, 
it is seldom found on the table of the modern library. 

Whilst, however. Lord Byron participates in this de- 
fect of his great original, he is to be congratulated, as a 
poet, but alas ! in his poetical character alone, on much 
happy deviation from him. In the first place, he has alto- 
gether washed his hands of allegory ; a species of fiction 
open to a thousand objections. In the next place, he is 
infinitely more brief than his prototype. And in the third 
place, he philosophizes and moralizes (though not indeed 
in a very sound strain), as well as paints — provides food 
for the mind as well as the eye — kindles the feeling as well 
as gratifies the sense. Thus far, then, we are among the 
admirers of his Lordship. But it is to be lamented, that 
what was well conceived is, from the temperament of his 
mind, ill executed ; that his philosophy is, strictly speak- 
ing, " only philosophy so called ;" that the moral emotions 
he feels, and is likely to communicate, are of a character 
rather to offend and pollute the mind, than to sooth or to 
improve it. This defect, however, we fear, is to be 
charged, not upon the poet, but upon the man, at least 
upon his principles. But, whatever be the cause, the 
consequences are dreadful. Indeed, we do not hesitate 
to say, that the temperament of his mind is the ruin of his 
poem. We shall take the liberty, as we have intimated, of 

* Hume. 



io6 THE CHRISTIAN OBSERVER 

touching upon these defects as moral delinquincies, under 
another head ; but for the present we wish to notice them 
merely as poetical errors. 

The legitimate object, then, of poetry, as we have said, 
is to instruct by pleasing; and, cseteris paribus, that poem 
is the best which conveys the noblest lessons in the most 
attractive form. If, in reply to this, it is urged that the 
heathen poets, and especially Homer, taught no lesson to 
his readers ; we answer, that he taught all the lessons 
which, in his own days, were deemed of highest importance 
to his country. The first object of philosophers and other 
teachers, in those days, was to make good soldiers, and 
therefore to condemn the vices which interfered with suc- 
cessful warfare. Now be it remembered, that the grand 
topic of the Iliad is the fatal influence of the wrath of 
kings on the success of armies. Its first words are 
MHNIN aei8e. Besides this, the Iliad upholds the 
national mythology, or the only accredited religion ; and 
by a bold fiction, bordering upon truth, displays in an 
Elysium and Tartarus, the eternal mansions of the good 
and bad, the strongest incentive to virtue and penalty to 
vice. Indeed, that both this and the Odyssey had a moral 
object, and that this object was recognized by the ancients, 
may be inferred from Horace, who says of Homer, in 
reference to the first poem : 

" Qui, quid sit pulchrum, quid turpe, quid utile, quid non, 
Plenius ac melius Chrysippo aut Crantore dicit." 

And as to the second : 

"Rursum — quid virtus, et quid sapientia possit, 
Utile proposuit nobis exemplar Ulyssem." Epist. I. 2. 

Many of the Odes of Horace had a patriotic subject — 
his Epistles and Satires, with those of Juvenal and Per- 



BYRON'S CHILDE HAROLD 107 

sius, were the sermons of the day. \ irgil chiefly pro- 
posed to himself to exalt in his hero the character of a 
patriot, and, in his fictitious history, the dignity of his 
country. If the lessons they taught were of small im- 
portance or doubtful value, or if they often forget to 
" teach " in their ambition to " please," this is to be 
ciiarged rather on the age than on the poet. They taught 
the best lessons they knew ; and were satisfied to please 
only when they had nothing better to do. In modern 
times, it will not be questioned that the greatest poets have 
ever endeavoured to enshrine some moral or intellectual 
object in their verse. Milton calls Spenser " our sage 
serious Spenser, whom I dare be known to think a better 
teacher than Scotus or Aquinas." In like manner, the 
Absalom and Achitophel, the Hind and Panther of 
Dryden, the philosophic strain of Pope, the immortal page 
of IMilton, and the half-inspired numbers of the Task, are 
all. in their various ways, attempts of poets to improve or 
reform the world. Every species of poetry, indeed, has 
received fresh lustre, and even taken a new place in Par- 
nassian dignity, by a larger infusion of moral sentiment 
into its numbers. The ancient ballad has arisen to new 
dignity through the moral touches, we wish they had been 
less rare, of a Scott ; and the stanza of Spenser has ac- 
quired new interest in the hands of Lord Byron, from the 
philosophical air which it wears. Numbers without 
morals are the man without " the glory." We sincerely 
wish that the moral tone of his Lordship's poem had been 
less liable to exception. 

His Lordship, we believe, is acquainted with ancient 
authors. Let him turn to Quinctilian, and he will find a 
whole chapter to prove that a great writer must be a good 
man. Let him go to Longinus, and he will read that a 
man who would write sublimely, " must spare no labour 



io8 THE CHRISTIAN OBSERVER 

to educate his soul to grandeur, and impregnate it with 
great and generous ideas " — that " the faculties of the 
soul will then grow stupid, their spirit will be lost, and 
good sense and genius lie in ruins, when the care and 
study of man is engaged about the mortal, the worthless 
part of himself, and he has ceased to cultivate virtue, and 
polish his nobler part, his soul." Or, if poetical authority 
alone will satisfy a poet, let him learn from one of the 
finest of our modern poems : 

" But of our souls the high-born loftier part, 
Th' ethereal energies that touch the heart, 
Conceptions ardent, laboring thought intense, 
Creative fancy's wild magnificence. 
And all the dread sublimities of song : 
These, Virtue, these to thee alone belong: 
Chill'd, by the breath of vice, their radiance dies, 
And brightest burns when lighted at the skies : 
Like vestal flames to purest bosoms given, 
And kindled only by a ray from heaven."* 

That the object of poetry, however, is not simply to in- 
struct, but to " instruct by pleasing," is too obvious to 
need a proof. However the original object of measure 
and rhythm may have been to graft truth on the memory, 
and associate it with music ; they are perpetuated by the 
universal conviction that they delight the ear. Like the 
armour which adorns the modern hall, they were con- 
trived for use, but are continued for ornament. 

Assuming this, then, to be a just definition of poetry, 
we repeat our assertion, that, in the work before us, the 
temperament of mind in the poet creates the grand de- 
fect of the poetry. If poetry should instruct, then he is 
a defective poet whose lessons rather revolt than improve 
the mind. If poetry should please, then he is a bad poet 



* Grant's Restoration of Learning in the East. 



BYRON'S CHILDE HAROLD 109 

who offends the eye by calhng up the most hideous images 
— who shews the world through a discoloured medium — 
who warms the heart by no generous feelings — who uni- 
formly turns to us the worst side of men and things — 
who goes on his way grumbling, and labours hard to make 
his readers as peevish and wretched as himself. The 
tendency of the strain of Homer is to transform us for the 
moment into heroes ; of Cowper, into saints ; of Milton, 
into angels : but Lord Byron would almost degrade us into 
a Thersites or a Caliban ; or lodge us, as fellow-grumblers, 
in the style of Diogenes, or any of his two or four-footed 
snarling or moody posterity. Now his Lordship, we 
trust, is accessible upon much higher grounds ; but he will 
perceive that mere regard for his poetical reputation ought 
to induce him to change his manner. If, as Longinus in- 
structs us, a man nuist feel sublimely to write sublimely, 
a poet must find pleasure in the objects of nature before 
him, if he hope to give pleasure to others. Let him re- 
member, that not merely his conceptions, but his mind and 
character are to be imparted to us in his verse. He will, 
in a measure, " stamp an image of himself !" The fire 
with which we are to glow must issue from him. Till this 
change take place in him, then, he can be no great poet. 
It is Heraclitus who mourns in his pages, or Zeno who 
scolds, or Zoilus who lashes ; but we look in vain for the 
poet, for the living fountain of our innocent pleasures, for 
the artificer of our literary delight, for the hand which, 
as by enchantment, snatches us from the little cares of 
life, whirls us into the boundless regions of imagination, 
" exhausting '' one "world," and imagining others, to 
supply pictures which may refresh and charm the mind.* 



* \\'e cannot resist the temptation of saying, that in this highest 
department of the poet's art, we know of no living poet who will 
bear a comparison with Mr. Southey. 



no THE CHRISTIAN OBSERVER 

Lord Byron shews us man and nature, like the phantas- 
magoria, in shade; whereas, in poetry at least, we desire 
to see them illuminated by all the friendly rays which 
a benevolent imagination can impart. 

We have hitherto confined ourselves to an examination 
of the influence of the principles and temper of this work 
upon its literary pretensions ; but his Lordship will forgive 
us if we now put off the mere critic for a moment, and 
address him in that graver character which we assume 
to ourselves in the title of our work. In truth, we are 
deeply affected by the spectacle his poem presents to us. 
As the minor poems at the conclusion of the work breathe 
the same spirit, suggest the same doubts, and employ the 
same language with the " Childe Harold " we are com- 
pelled to recognise the author in the hero whom he has 
painted. In fact, the disclaimer, already noticed in the 
Preface, seems merely like one of those veils worn to 
draw attention to the face rather than to baffle it : and 
in the work before us we are forced to recognise a charac- 
ter, which, since Rousseau gave his Confessions to the 
public, has scarcely ever, we think, darkened the horizon 
of letters. The reader of the " Confessions " is dismayed 
to find a man frankly avowing the most disgraceful vices ; 
abandoning them, not upon principle, but merely because 
they have ceased to gratify ; prepared to return to them 
if they promise to reward him better ; without natural 
affection, neither loving, nor beloved by any; without 
peace, without hope, " without God in the world." When 
we search into the mysterious cause of this autobiograph- 
ical phenomenon, we at once discover that Rousseau's 
immeasurable vanity betrayed him into a belief, that even 
his vices would vanish in the blaze of his excellencies ; and 
that the world would worship him, as idolaters do their 
mishapen gods, in spite of their ugliness. The confes- 



BYRON'S CHILDE HAROLD i" 

sions of Lord Byron, we regret to say, bear something ot 
an analogy to those of the philosopher of Geneva. Are 
they, then, to be traced to the smne source ? He plainly is 
far from indififerent to the opinion of by-standcrs : can 
he, then, conceive that this peep into the window of his 
breast must not revolt every virtuous eye? Can he boldly 
proclaim his violations of decency and of sobriety ; his 
common contempt for all modifications of religion ; his 
monstrous belief in the universal rest or annihilation of 
man in a future state ; and forget that he is one of those 
who 

" Play such tricks before high heaven, 
As make the angels weep;" 

as oflfend against all moral taste ; as attempt to shake the 
very pillars of domestic happiness and of public security? 
It is, however, a matter of congratulation, that his 
Lordship, in common with the republican Confessor, has 
not revealed his creed without very honestly displaying 
the influence of this creed upon his own mind. We 
should not. indeed, have credited a man of his sentiments, 
had he assured us he was happy : happiness takes no root 
in such soils. But it is still better to have his own testi- 
mony to the unmixed misery of licentiousness and un- 
belief. It is almost comforting to be told, if we dared to 
draw comfort out of the well of another man's miseries, 
that 

" Though gay companions o'er the bowl 

Dispel awhile the sense of ill ; 
Though pleasure fires the maddening soul, 

The heart — the heart is lonely still." 

It is consolatory also to contrast the peace and triumph 
of the dying Christian, with the awful uncertainty, or 
rather the sullen despair, which breathe in these verses. 



112 THE CHRISTIAN OBSERVER 

" ' Aye — but to die and go ' — alas, 

Where all have gone, and all must go; 
To be the nothing that I was. 
Ere born to life and living woe. 

"Count o'er the joys thine hours have seen, 
Count o'er thy days from anguish free; 
And know, whatever thou hast been, 
'Tis something better not to be." 

Nor can religion be more powerfvilly recommended than 
by the following avowal of an apostle of the opposite 
system. 

" No, for myself, so dark my fate 

Through every turn of life has been, 
Man and the world I so much hate, 
I care not when I quit the scene." 

But whilst, for the benefit of others, we thus avail our- 
selves of the antidote supplied by his Lordship to his own 
poison, we would wish also that he might feel the efficacy 
of it himself. Could we hope that so humble a work as 
this would reach the lofty sphere in which he moves, we 
would solemnly say to him : " You are wretched, but will 
nothing make you happy? You hate all men ; will nothing 
warm you with new feelings? You are (as you say) 
hated by all ; will nothing make you an object of affec- 
tion? Suppose yourself the victim of some disease, which 
resisted many ordinary applications ; but that all who used 
one medicine uniformly pronounced themselves cured : — 
would it be worthy of a philosopher not merely to neglect 
the remedy, but to traduce it? Such, however, my Lord, 
is the fatuity of your own conduct as to the religion of 
Christ. Thousands, as wretched as yourself, have found 
'a Comforter' in Him; thousands, having stepped into 
these waters, have been healed of their disease ; thousands, 
touching the hem of His garment, have found ' virtue go 



BYRON'S CHILDE HAROLD "S 

out of it.' Beggared then of every other resource, try 
this. ' Acquaint yourself with God, and be at peace.' " 
His Lordship may designate this language by that ex- 
pressive monosyllable, cant; and may possibly, before 
long, hunt us down, as a sort of mad Alarch hare, with 
the blood-hounds of his angry muse. But we hope better 
things of him. We assure him, that, whatever may be 
true of others, we do not " hate him." As Christians, 
even he who professes to be unchristian is dear to us. 
We regard the waste of his fine talents, and the laboured 
suppression and apparent extinction of his better feelings, 
with the deepest commiseration and sorrow. We long 
to see him escape from the black cloud which, by what 
may fairly be called his " black art," he has conjured up 
around himself. We hope to know him as a future 
buttress of his shaken country, and as a friend of his yet 
" unknown God." Should this change, by the mercy of 
God, take place, what pangs would many passages of his 
present work cost him ! Happy should we be, could we 
persuade him, in the bare anticipation of such a change, 
even now to contrive for his future happiness, by ex- 
punging sentiments that would then so much embitter it. 
Should he never change ; yet, such an act would prove, 
that, at least, he meditated no cruel invasion upon the joys 
of others. Even Rousseau taught his child religion, as a 
delusion essential to happiness. The philosophic Tully 
also, if a belief in futurity were an error, deemed it one 
with which it was impossible to part. Let the author 
then, at all events, leave us in unmolested possession of 
our supposed privileges. He plainly knows no noble or 
" royal way " to happiness. IVe find in religion a bark 
that rides the waves in every storm ; a sun that never goes 
down ; a living fountain of waters. Religion is suffered 
to change its aspect and influence according to the eye 



114 THE CHRISTIAN OBSERVER 

and faith of the examiner. Like one side of the pillar 
of the wilderness, it may merely darken and perplex his 
Lordship's path : to millions it is like the opposite side 
of that pillar to the Israelites, the symbol of Deity; the 
pillar of hallowed flame, which lights and guides, and 
cheers them as they toil onward through the pilgrimage 
of life. Could we hear any voice proclaim of him, as of 
one reclaimed from as inveterate, though more honest, 
prejudices, " behold, he prayeth ;" we should hope that 
here also the scales would drop from the eyes, and his 
Lordship become an eloquent defender and promulgator 
of the religion which he now scorns. — The Christian Ob- 
server. 



Percy Byssiie Shelley, 

Alastor; or, The Spirit of Solitude; and other Poems. 

By Percy Bysche Shelley. Crown 8vo. pp. loi. 

Baldwin, and Co. 1816. 

We must candidly own that these poems are beyond 
our comprehension ; and we did not obtain a clue to their 
sublime obscurity, till an address to Mr. Wordsworth ex- 
plained in what school the author had formed his taste. 
We perceive, through the " darkness visible " in which 
Mr. Shelley veils his subject, some beautiful imagery 
and poetical expressions : but he appears to be a poet 
" whose eye, in a fine phrenzy rolling," seeks only such 
objects as are " above this visible diurnal sphere ;" and 
therefore we entreat him, for the sake of his reviewers as 
well as of his other readers, (if he has any,) to subjoin 
to his next publication an ordo, a glossary, and copious 
notes, illustrative of his allusions and explanatory of his 
meaning. — The Monthly Review. 



:J5 



The Ccnci. A Tragedy, in Five Acts. By Percy Bysshe 

Shell [e]y. Italy. 1819. pp. 104. 

There has lately arisen a new-fangled style of poetry, 
facetiously yclept the Cockney School, that it would really 
be worth any one's while to enter as a candidate. The 
qualifications are so easy, that he need never doubt the 
chance of his success, for he has only to knock, and it 
shall be opened unto him. The principal requisites for 
admission, in a literary point of view, are as follows. 
First, an inordinate share of affectation and conceit, with 
a few occasional good things sprinkled, like green spots 
of verdure in a wilderness, with a " pared quod satis est 
manu." Secondly, a prodigious quantity of assurance, 
that neither God nor man can daunt, founded on the 
honest principle of " who is like unto me ?" and lastly, a 
contempt for all institutions, moral and divine, with secret 
yearnings for aught that is degrading to human nature, 
or revolting to decency. These qualifications ensured, a 
regular initiation into the Cockney mysteries follows as a 
matter of course, and the novice enlists himself under 
their banners, proud of his newly-acquired honors, and 
starched up to the very throat in all the prim stiffness of 
his intellect. A few symptoms of this literary malady 
appeared as early as the year 1795, but it then assumed 
the guise of simplicity and pathos. It was a poetical 
Lord Fanny. It wept its pretty self to death by murmur- 
ing brooks, and rippling cascades, it heaved delicious sighs 
over sentimental lambs, and love-lorn sheep, apostrophized 
donkies in the innocence of primaeval nature : sung tender 
songs to tender nightingales ; went to bed without a 
candle, that it might gaze on the chubby faces of the stars ; 

116 



SHELLEY'S THE CENCI n? 

discoursed sweet nothings to all who would listen to its 
nonsense; and displayed (liorroidiDJi dictn) the acute' 
profundity of its grief in ponderous folios and spiral duo- 
decimos. The literary world, little suspecting the dan- 
gerous consequences of this distressing malady, suffered 
it to germinate in silence ; and not until they became thor- 
oughly convinced that the disorder was of an epidemical 
nature, did they start from their long continued lethargy. 
But it was then too late ! The evil was incurable ; it 
branched out into the most vigorous ramifications, and 
following the scriptural admonition, " Increase and multi- 
ply," disseminated its poetry and its prose throughout a 
great part of England. As a dog, when once completely 
mad, is never satisfied until he has bitten half a dozen 
more, so the Cockney professors, in laudable zeal for the 
propagation of their creed, w^ere never at rest until they 
had spread their own doctrines around them. They stood 
on the house tops and preached, 'till of a verity they were 
black in the face with the heating quality of their argu- 
ments ; they stationed themselves by the bye roads and 
hedges, to discuss the beauties of the country ; they looked 
out from their garrett {sic^ windows in Grub-street, and 
exclaimed, " O! rns, quando ego te aspiciam;" and gave 
such afflicting tokens of insanity, that the different re- 
viewers and satirists of the day kindly laced them in the 
strait jackets of their criticism. " But all this availeth 
us nothing," exclaimed the critics, " so long as we see 
Mordecai the Jew sitting at the gate of the Temple ; that 
is to say, as long as there is one Cockney pericranium left 
unscalped by the tomahawks of our satire." But not- 
w'ithstanding the strenuous exertions of all those whose 
brains have not been cast in the mould of this new species 
of intellectual dandyism, the evil has been daily and even 
hourly increasing; and so prodigious is the progressive 



ii8 THE LONDON MAGAZINE 

ratio of its march, that the zvorthy Society for the Sup- 
.pression of Vice should be called upon to eradicate it. It 
now no longer masks its real intentions under affected 
purity of sentiment ; its countenance has recently acquired 
a considerable addition of brass, the glitter of which has 
often been mistaken for sterling coin, and incest, adultery, 
murder, blasphemy, are among other favorite topics of 
its discussion. It seems to delight in an utter perversion 
of all moral, intellectual, and religious qualities. It gluts 
over the monstrous deformities of nature ; finds gratifica- 
tion in proportion to the magnitude of the crime it extolls ; 
and sees no virtue but in vice ; no sin, but in true feeling. 
Like poor Tom, in Lear, whom the foul fiend has pos- 
sessed for many a day, it will run through ditches, through 
quagmires, and through bogs, to see a man stand on his 
head for the exact space of half an hour. Ask the reason 
of this raging appetite for eccentricity, the answer is, such 
a thing is out of the beaten track of manhood, ergo, it is 
praiseworthy. 

Among the professors of the Cockney school, Mr. 
Percy Bysshe Shell [e]y is one of the most conspicuous. 
With more fervid imagination and splendid talents than 
nine-tenths of the community, he yet prostitutes those 
talents by the utter degradation to which he unequivocally 
consigns them. His Rosalind and Helen, his Revolt of 
Islam, and his Alastor, or the Spirit of Solitude, while 
they possess beauties of a superior order, are lamentably 
deficient in morality and religion. The doctrines they 
inculcate are of the most evil tendency ; the characters 
they depict are of the most horrible description ; but in 
the midst of these disgraceful passages, there are beauties 
of such exquisite, such redeeming qualities, that we adore 
while we pity — we admire while we execrate — and are 
tempted to exclaim with the last of the Romans, " Oh ! 



SHELLEY'S THE CENCI "9 

wliat a fall is here, my countrymen." In the modern 
Eclogue of Rosalind and Helen in particular, there is a 
pensive sadness, a delicious melancholy, nurst in the 
purest, the deepest recesses of the heart, and springing up 
like a fountain in the desert, that pervades the poem, and 
forms its principal attraction. The rich yet delicate 
imagery that is every where scattered over it, is like the 
glowing splendor of the setting sun, when he retires to 
rest, amid the blessings of exulting nature. It is the 
balmy breath of the summer breeze, the twilight's last and 
holiest sigh. In the dramatic poem before us, the interest 
is of a different nature ; it is dark — wild, and unearthly. 
The characters that appear in it are of no mortal stamp ; 
they are daemons in human guise, inscrutable in their 
actions, subtle in their revenge. Each has his smile of 
awful meaning — his purport of hellish tendency. The 
tempest that rages in his bosom is irrepressible but by 
death. The phrenzied groan that diseased imagination 
extorts from his perverted soul, is as the thunder-clap 
that reverberates amid the cloud-capt summits of the 
Alps. It is the storm that convulses all nature — that lays 
bare the face of heaven, and gives transient glimpses of 
destruction yet to be. Then in the midst of all these 
accumulated horrors comes the gentle Beatrice, 

" Who in the gentleness of thy sweet youth 
Hast never trodden on a worm, or bruised 
A living flower, but thou hast pitied it 
With needless tears." Page 50. 

She walks in the light of innocence: in the unclouded 
sunshine of loveliness and modesty ; but her felicity is 
transient as the calm that precedes the tempest ; and in 
the very whispers of her virtue, you hear the indistinct 
muttering of the distant thunder. She is conceived in the 



I20 THE LONDON MAGAZINE 

true master spirit of genius ; and in the very instant of 
her parricide, comes home to our imagination fresh in 
the spring time of innocence — hallowed in the deepest 
recesses of melancholy. But notwithstanding all these 
transcendant qualities, there are numerous passages that 
warrant our introductory observations respecting the 
Cockney school, and plunge " full fathom five," into the 
profoundest depths of the Bathos. While, therefore, we 
do justice to the abilities of the author, we shall bestow 
a passing smile or two on his unfortunate Cockney pro- 
pensities. 

The following are the principal incidents of the play. 
Count Cenci, the daemon of the piece, delighted with the 
intelligence of the death of tw^o of his sons, recounts at a 
large assembly, specially invited for the purpose, the cir- 
cumstances of the dreadful transaction. Lucretia, his 
wife, Beatrice, his daughter, and the other guests, are of 
course startled at his transports; but when they hear his 
awful imprecations, 

" Oh, thou bright wine whose purple splendor leaps 
And bubbles gaily in this golden bowl 
Under the lamp light, as my spirits do, 
To hear the death of my accursed sons ! 
Could I believe thou wert their mingled blood, 
Then would I taste thee like a sacrament. 
And pledge with thee the mighty Devil in Hell, 
Who, if a father's curses, as men say. 
Climb with swift wings after their children's souls, 
And drag them from the very throne of Heaven, 
Now triumphs in my triumph ! — But thou art 
Superfluous; I have drunken deep of joy 
And I will taste no other wine tonight — " 

their horror induces them to leave the room. Beatrice, 
in the meantime, who has been rating her parent for his 
cruelty, is subjected to every species of insult ; and he 



SHELLEY'S THE CENCI 121 

sends her to her own apartment, with the heUish intention 
of prostituting her innocence, and contaminating, as he 
pithily expresses it, " both body and soul." The second 
act introduces us to a tete-a-tete between Bernardo 
(another of Cenci's sons) and Lucretia ; when their con- 
ference is suddenly broken off, by the abrupt entrance of 
Beatrice, who has escaped from the pursuit of the Count. 
She recapitulates the injuries she has received from her 
father, the most atrocious of which appear to be, that he 
has given them all " ditch water " to drink, and " buffa- 
los " to eat. But before we proceed further, we have a 
word or two respecting this same ditch water, and buffa- 
lo's flesh, which we shall mention, as a piece of advice to 
the author. It is well known, we believe, in a case of 
lunacy, that the first thing considered is, whether the 
patient has done any thing sufficiently foolish, to induce his 
relatives to apply for a statute against him : now any 
malicious, evil-minded person, were he so disposed, might 
make successful application to the court against the luck- 
less author of the Cenci, a tragedy in five acts. Upon 
which the judge with, all the solemnity suitable to so 
melancholy a circumstance as the decay of the mental 
faculties, would ask for proofs of the defendant's lunacy; 
upon which the plaintiff would produce the affecting epi- 
sode of the ditch water and buffalo flesh ; upon which the 
judge would shake his head, and acknowledge the in- 
sanity ; upon which the defendant would be incarcerated 
in Bedlam. 

To return from this digression, we are next introduced 
to Giacomo, another of Cenci's hopeful progeny, who, 
like the rest, has a dreadful tale to unfold of his father's 
cruelty towards him. Orsino, the favored lover of 
Beatrice, enters at the moment of his irritation ; and by the 
most artful pleading ultimately incites him to the murder 



122 THE LONDON MAGAZINE 

of his father, in which he is to be joined by the rest of 
the family. The plot, after one unkicky attempt, suc- 
ceeds; and at the moment of its accomplishment, is dis- 
covered by a messenger, who is despatched to the lonely 
castle of Petrella (one of the Count's family residences), 
with a summons of attendance from the Pope. We need 
hardly say that the criminals are condemned ; and not even 
the lovely Beatrice is able to escape the punishment of the 
law. The agitation she experiences after the commission 
of the incest, is powerfully descriptive. 

"How comes this hair undone? 
Its wandering strings must be what blind me so, 
And yet I tied it fast. — O, horrible ! 
The pavement sinks under my feet ! The walls 
Spin round ! I see a woman weeping there, 
And standing calm and motionless, whilst I 
Slide giddily as the world reels — My God! 
The beautiful blue heaven is flecked with blood ! 
The sunshine on the floor is black ! The air 
Is changed to vapours such as the dead breathe 
In charnel pits ! Pah ! I am choaked ! There creeps 
A clinging, black, contaminating mist 
About me — 'tis substantial, heavy, thick, 
I cannot pluck it from me, for it glues 
My fingers and my limbs to one another. 
And eats into my sinews, and dissolves 
My flesh to a pollution, poisoning 
The subtle, pure, and inmost spirit of life !" 

At first she concludes that she is mad ; but then pa- 
thetically checks herself by saying, " No, I am dead." 
Lucretia naturally enough inquires into the cause of her 
disquietude, and but too soon discovers, by the broken 
hints of the victim, the source of her mental agitation. 
Terrified at their defenceless state, they then mutually 
conspire with Orsino against the Count ; and Beatrice pro- 



SHELLEY'S THE CENCI 123 

poses to way-lay him (a plot, however, which fails) in a 
deep and dark rainnc, as he journeys to Petrella. 

" But I remember 
Two miles on this side of the fort, the road 
Crosses a deep ravine; 'tis rough and narrow, 
And winds with short turns down the precipice; 
And in its depth there is a mighty rock, 
Which has, from unimaginable years, 
Sustained itself with terror and with toil 
Over a gulph, and with the agony 
With which it clings seems slowly coming down ; 
Even as a wretched soul hour after hour. 
Clings to the mass of life; yet clinging, leans; 
And leaning, makes more dark the dread abyss 
In which it fears to fall : beneath this crag 
Huge as despair, as if in weariness. 
The melancholy mountain yawns — below, 
You hear but see not an impetuous torrent 
Raging among the caverns, and a bridge 
Crosses the chasm; and high above there grow, 
With intersecting trunks, from crag to crag. 
Cedars, and yews, and pines ; whose tangled hair 
Is matted in one solid roof of shade 
By the dark ivy's twine. At noon day here 
'Tis twilight, and at sunset blackest night." 

Giacomo, meanwhile, who was privy to the transaction, 
awaits the arrival of Orsino, with intelligence of the mur- 
der, in a state of the most fearful torture and suspence. 

" Tis midnight, and Orsino comes not yet. 
{Thunder, and the sound of a storm.) 
What ! can the everlasting elements 
Feel with a worm like man? If so, the shaft 
Of mercy-winged lightning would not fall 
On stones and trees. My wife and children sleep : 
They are now living in unmeaning dreams : 
But I must wake, still doubting if that deed 
Be just which was most necessary. O, 



124 THE LONDON MAGAZINE 

Thou unreplenished lamp ! whose narrow fire 
Is shaken by the wind, and on whose edge 
Devouring darkness hovers ! Thou small flame, 
Which, as a dying pulse rises and falls, 
Still flickerest up and down, how very soon. 
Did I not feed thee, thou wouldst fail and be 
As thou hadst never been ! So wastes and sinks 
Even now, perhaps, the life that kindled mine : 
But that no power can fill with vital oil 
That broken lamp of flesh. Ha ! 'tis the blood 
Which fed these veins that ebbs till all is cold : 
It is the form that moulded mine that sinks 
Into the white and yellow spasms of death : 
It is the soul by which mine was arrayed 
In God's immortal likeness which now stands 
Naked before Heaven's j udgment seat ! 

(a bell strikes) 
One ! Two ! 
The hours crawl on; and when, my hairs are white 
My son will then perhaps be waiting thus. 
Tortured between just hate and vain remorse; 
Chiding the tardy messenger of news 
Like those which I expect. I almost wish 
He be not dead, although my wrongs are great ; 
Yet — 'tis Orsino's step." 

We envy not the feelings of any one who can read the 
curses that Cenci invokes on his daughter, when she re- 
fuses to repeat her guilt, without the strongest disgust, 
notwithstanding the intense vigor of the imprecations 

"Cell. (Kneeling) God! 
Hear me! If this most specious mass of flesh, 
Which thou hast made my daughter; this my blood, 
This particle of my divided being; 
Or rather, this my bane and my disease. 
Whose sight infects and poisons me; this devil 
Which sprung from me as from a hell, was meant 
To aught good use; if her bright loveliness 
Was kindled to illumine this dark world ; 
If nursed by thy selectest dew of love 



SHELLEY'S THE CENCI 125 

Such virtues blossom in her as should make 
The peace of life, I pray thee for my sake ' 

As thou the common God and Father art 
Of her, and me, and all; reverse that doom! 
Earth, in the name of God, let her food be 
Poison, until she be encrusted round 
With leprous stains ! Heaven, rain upon her head 
The blistering drops of the Maremma's dew, 
Till she be speckled like a toad ; parch up 
Those love-enkindled lips, warp those fine limbs 
To loathed lameness ! All beholding sun, 
Strike in thine envy those life darting eyes 
With thine own blinding beams ! 

Lucr. Peace! Peace! 
For thine own sake unsay those dreadful words. 
When high God grants he punishes such prayers. 

Ccn. (Leaping up, and tlirozi'ing his right hand toward 
Heaven) 
He does his will, I mine! This in addition, 
That if she have a child — 

Lucr. Horrible thought! 

Cen. That if she ever have a child; and thou. 
Quick Nature! I adjure thee by thy God, 
That thou be fruitful in her, and encrease 
And multiply, fulfilling his command, 
And my deep imprecation ! May it be 
A hideous likeness of herself, that as 
From a distorting mirror, she may see 
Her image mixed with what she most abhors, 
Smiling upon her from her nursing breast. 
And that the child may from its infancy 
Grow, day by day, more wicked and deformed, 
Turning her mother's love to miserj-: 
And that both she and it may live until 
It shall repay her care and pain with hate. 
Or what may else be more unnatural. 
So he may hunt her thro' the clamorous scoffs 
Of the loud world to a dishonoured grave. 
Shall I revoke this curse? Go, bid her come. 
Before my words are chronicled in Heaven. 

(Exit LUCRETIA.) 



126 THE LONDON MAGAZINE 

I do not feel as if I were a man, 

But like a fiend appointed to chastise 

The offences of some unremembered world. 

My blood is running up and down my veins ; 

A fearful pleasure makes it prick and tingle : 

I feel a giddy sickness of strange awe ; 

My heart is beating with an expectation 

Of horrid joy." 

Ohe! jam satis est!! — The mimitico of this affectionate 
parent's ctirses forcibly remind lis of the equally minute 
excommunication so admirably recorded in Tristram 
Shandy. But Sterne has the start of him ; for though 
Percy Bysshe Shell [e]y, Esquire, has contrived to include 
in the imprecations of Cenci, the eyes, head, lips, and limbs 
of his daughter, the other has anticipated his measures, in 
formally and specifically anathematizing the lights, lungs, 
liver, and all odd joints, without excepting even the great 
toe of his victim. — To proceed in our review ; the dying 
expostulations of poor Beatrice, are beautiful and affect- 
ing, though occasionally tinged with the Cockney style 
of burlesque ; for instance, Bernado asks, when they tear 
him from the embraces of his sister, 

" Would ye divide body from soul ?" 

On which the judge sturdily replies — " That is the heads- 
man's business," The idea of approaching execution 
paralyses the soul of Beatrice, and she thus frantically ex- 
presses her horror. 

" Beatr. {Wildly) Oh, 
My God ! Can it be possible I have 
To die so suddenly? So young to go 
Under the obscure, cold, rotting, wormy ground ! 
To be nailed down into a narrow place ; 
To see no more sweet sunshine; hear no more 



1 



SHELLEY'S THE CENCI 127 

Blithe voice of living thing; muse not again 

Upon familiar thoughts, sad, yet thus lost. 

How fearful ! to be nothing ! Or to be — 

What ? O, where am I ? Let me not go mad ! 

Sweet Heaven, forgive weak thoughts! If there should 

be 
No God, no Heaven, no Earth in the void world ; 
The wide, grey, lampless, deep, unpeopled world ! 
H all things then should be — my father's spirit 
His eye, his voice, his touch surrounding me; 
The atmosphere and breath of my dead life ! 
If sometimes, as a shape more like himself, 
Even the form which tortured me on earth, 
Masked in grey hairs and wrinkles, he should come 
And wind me in his hellish arms, and fix 
His eyes on mine, and drag me down, down, down !" 

The author, in his preface, observes that he has com- 
mitted only one plagiarism in his play. But with all the 
triumph of vanity, we here stoutly convict him of having 
wilfully, maliciously and despitefully stolen, the pleasing 
idea of the repetition of " down, down, down," from the 
equally pathetic and instructive ditty of " up, up, up," in 
Tom Thumb ; the exordium or prolegomena to which 
floweth sweetly and poetically thus : — 

" Here we go up, up, up, 

And here we go doivn, down, down!" 

In taking leave of Mr. Shelley, we have a few observa- 
tions to whisper in his ear. That he has the seedlings of 
poetry in his composition no one can deny, after the 
perusal of many of our extracts ; that he employs them 
worthily, is more than can be advanced. His style, 
though disgraced by occasional puerilities, and simpering 
affectations, is in general bold, vigorous, and manly ; but 
the disgraceful fault to which we object in his writings, is 



128 . THE LONDON MAGAZINE 

the scorn he every where evinces for all that is moral or 
religious. If he must be skeptical — if he must be lax in 
his human codes of excellence, let him be so ; but in God's 
name let him not publish his principles, and cram them 
down the throats of others. Existence in its present state 
is heavy enough ; and if we take away the idea of eternal 
happiness, however visionary it may appear to some, who 
or what is to recompence us for the loss we have sus- 
tained? Will scepticism lighten the bed of death? — Will 
vice soothe the pillow of declining age? If so! let us all 
be sceptics, let us all be vicious ; but until their admirable 
efficacy is proved, let us jog on the beaten course of life, 
neither influenced by the scofif of infidelity, nor fascinated 
by the dazzling but flimsy garb of licentiousness and 
immorality. — The London Magazine. 



Adonais. An Elegy, on the Death of Mr. John Keats. 

By P. B. Shelley. " 

We have already given some of our columns to this 
writer's merits, and we will not now repeat our convictions 
of his incurable absurdity. On the last occasion of our 
alluding to him, we were compelled to notice his horrid 
licentiousness and profaneness, his fearful offences to all 
the maxims that honorable minds are in the habit of re- 
specting, and his plain defiance of Christianity. On the 
present occasion we are not met by so continued and regu- 
lar a determination of insult, though there are atrocities to 
be found in the poem quite enough to make us caution our 
readers against its pages. Adonais is an elegy after the 
manner of Moschus, on a foolish young man, who, after 
writing some volumes of very weak, and, in the greater 
part, of very indecent poetry, died some time since of a 
consumption : the breaking down of an infirm constitution 
having, in all probability, been accelerated by the discard- 
ing his neck cloth, a practice of the cockney poets, who 
look upon it as essential to genius, inasmuch as neither 
j\Iichael Angelo, Raphael or Tasso are supposed to have 
worn those antispiritual incumbrances. In short, as the 
vigour of Sampson lay in his hair, the secret of talent 
with these persons lies in the neck ; and what aspirations 
can be expected from a mind enveloped in muslin. Keats 
caught cold in training for a genius, and, after a lingering 
illness, died, to the great loss of the Independents of 
South America, whom he had intended to visit with an 
English epic poem, for the purpose of exciting them to 
liberty. But death, even the death of the radically pre- 
sumptuous profligate, is a serious thing; and as we 

12 129 



13° THE LITERARY GAZETTE 

believe that Keats was made presumptuous chiefly by the 
treacherous puffing" of his cockney fellow gossips, and 
profligate in his poems merely to make them saleable, we 
regret that he did not live long enough to acquire com- 
mon sense, and abjure the pestilent and perfidious gang 
who betrayed his weakness to the grave, and are now 
panegyrising his memory into contempt. For what is the 
praise of cockneys but disgrace, or what honourable in- 
scription can be placed over the dead by the hands of no- 
torious libellers, exiled adulterers, and avowed atheists. 
Adonais, an Elegy, is the form in which Mr. Shelley 
puts forth his woes. We give a verse at random, pre- 
mising that there is no story in the elegy, and that it 
consists of fifty-five stanzas, which are, to our seeming, 
altogether unconnected, inter jectional, and nonsensical. 
We give one that we think among the more comprehen- 
sible. An address to Urania : — 

" Most musical of mourners, weep anew ! 

Not all to that bright station dared to climb ; 
And happier they their happiness who knew. 

Whose tapers yet burn thro' that night of time 
In which suns perish'd; Others more sublime, 

Struck by the envious wroth of man or God ! ! 
Have sunk extinct in their refulgent prime; 

And some yet live," &c. 

Now what is the meaning of this, or of any sentence of 
it, except indeed that horrid blasphemy which attributes 
crime to the Great Author of all virtue ! The rest is 
mere empty absurdity. If it were worth our while to 
dilate on the folly of the production, we might find ex- 
amples of every species of the ridiculous within those 
few pages. 

Mr. Shelley summons all kinds of visions round the 
grave of this young man, who, if he has now any feeling 



SHELLEY'S ADONAIS 131 

of the earth, must shrink with shame and disgust from 
the touch of the hand that could have written that im- 
pious sentence. These he classifies under names, the 
greater numher as new we believe to poetry as strange 
to common sense. Those are — 

'' Desires and Adorations 



Winged Persuasions and veiled Destinies, 
Splendours, and Glooms, and glimmering Incarnations 

Of hopes and fears and twilight Phantasies, 
And Sorrow with her family of Sighs, 

And Pleasure, blind with tears! led by the gleam 
Of her own dying smile instead of eyes! !" 

Let our readers try to imagine these weepers, and 
close with " blind Pleasure led," by what? "by the light 
of her ozvn dying smile — instead of eyes ! ! !" 

We give some specimens of Mr. S.'s 

Nonsense — pastoral. 
" Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains,* 

And feeds her grief with his remember'd lay, 
And will no more reply to winds and fountains." 

N onsen se — p h ysica I. 
— "for whose disdain she (Echo) pin'd away 
Into a shadow of all sounds!" 

Nonsense — vermicular. 
" Flowers springing from the corpse 

illumine death 

And mock the merry worm that wakes beneath. 

Nonsense — pathetic. 
" Alas ! that all we lov'd of him should be 

But for our grief, as if it had not been. 
And grief itself be mortal! woe is me!" 
No nsense — ttondescrip t. 
" In the death chamber for a moment Death, 
Blush'd to annihilation!" - 

* Though there is no Echo and the mountains are voiceless, the 
woodmen, nevertheless, in the last line of this verse hear " a drear 
murmur between their Songs ! ! " 



132 THE LITERARY GAZETTE 

A'onscnsc — personal. 
"A pardlike spirit, beautiful and swift — 
A love in desolation mask'd; — a Power 
Girt round zvith zveakness; — it can scarce uplift 
The weight of the superincumbent hour!" 

We have some idea that this fragment of character 
is intended for Mr. Shelley himself. It closes with a 
passage of memorable and ferocious blasphemy : — 

" He with a sudden hand 



Made bare his branded and ensanguin'd brow, 
Which was like Cain's or Christ's ! ! !" 

What can be said to the wretched person capable of 
this daring profanation. The name of the first murderer 
— the accurst of God — brought into the same aspect image 
with that of the Saviour of the World ! We are scarcely 
satisfied that even to quote such passages may not be 
criminal. The subject is too repulsive for us to pro- 
ceed even in expressing our disgust for the general folly 
that makes the Poem as miserable in point of authorship, 
as in point of principle. We know that among a certain 
class this outrage and this inanity meet with some attempt 
at palliation, under the idea that frenzy holds the pen. 
That any man who insults the common order of society, 
and denies the being of God, is essentially mad we never 
doubted. But for the madness, that retains enough of 
rationality to be wilfully mischievous, we can have no 
more lenity than for the appetites of a wild beast. The 
poetry of the work is contemptible — a mere collection of 
bloated words heaped on each other without order, har- 
mony, or meaning; the refuse of a schoolboy's common- 
place book, full of the vulgarisms of pastoral poetry, yel- 
low gems and blue stars, bright Phoebus and rosy- 
fingered Aurora; and of this stuff is Keats's wretched 
Elegy compiled. 



SHELLEY'S ADONAIS i33 

We might add instances of like incomprehensible folly 
from every stanza. A heart keeping, a mute sleep, and 
death feeding on a mute voiec, occur in one verse (page 8) ; 
Spring in despair " throws down her kindling buds as if 
she Autumn were," a thing we never knew Autumn do 
with buds of any sort, the kindling kind being unknown to 
our botany; a green lizard is like an nniuiprisoned flame, 
waking out of its trance (page 13). In the same page 
the leprous eorpse touched by the tender spirit of Spring, 
so as to exhale itself in flowers, is compared to " incarna- 
tions of the stars, ivhen splendour is changed to fra- 
grance!!!" Urania (page 15) ivounds the ''invisible 
palms" of her tender feet by treading on human hearts as 
she journeys to see the corpse. Page 22, somebody is 
asked to " clasp with panting soul the pendulous earth," 
an image which, we take it, exceeds that of Shakespeare, 
to " put a girdle about it in forty minutes." 

It is so far a fortunate thing that this piece of impious 
and utter absurdity can have little circulation in Britain. 
The copy in our hands is one of some score sent to the 
Author's intimates from Pisa, where it has been printed 
in a quarto form " with the types of Didot," and two 
learned Epigraphs from Plato and Moschus. Solemn as 
the subject is, (for in truth we must grieve for the early 
death of any youth of literary ambition,) it is hardly 
possible to help laughing at the mock solemnity with 
which Shelley charges the Quarterly Review for having 
murdered his friend with — a critique !* If criticism 
killed the disciples of that school, Shelley would not 
have been alive to write an Elegy on another : — but the 

* This would have done excellently for a coroner's inquest like that 
on Honey, which lasted thirty days, and was facetiously called the 
" Honey-moon." 



134 THE LITERARY GAZETTE 

whole is most farcical from a pen which on other occa- 
sions, has treated of the soul, the body, life and death 
agreeably to the opinions, the principles, and the practice 
of Percy Bysshe Shelley. — The Literary Gazette. 



John Keats 

Endymion: A Poetic Romance. By John Keats. Lon- 
don. 1818, pp. 207. 

Reviewers have been sometimes accused of not reading 
the works which they affected to criticise. On the present 
occasion we shall anticipate the author's complaint, and 
honestly confess that we have not read his work. Not 
that we have been wanting in our duty — far from it — 
indeed, we have made efforts almost as superhuman as 
the story itself appears to be, to get through it ; but with 
the fullest stretch of our perseverance, we are forced to 
confess that we have not been able to struggle beyond the 
first of the four books of which this Poetic Romance 
consists. We should extremely lament this want of en- 
ergy, or whatever it may be, on our parts, were it not 
for one consolation — namely, that we are no better ac- 
quainted with the meaning of the book through which we 
have so painfully toiled, than we are with that of the 
three which we have not looked into. 

It is not that Mr. Keats, (if that be his real name, for 
we almost doubt that any man in his senses would put 
his real name to such a rhapsody,) it is not, we say, that 
the author has not powers of language, rays of fancy, 
and gleams of genius — he has all these; but he is 
unhappily a disciple of the new school of what has been 
somewhere called Cockney poetry ; which may be defined 
to consist of the most incongruous ideas in the most un- 
couth language. 

Of this school, Mr. Leigh Hunt, as we observed in a 
former Number, aspires to be the hierophant. Our read- 
ers will recollect the pleasant recipes for harmonious and 

135 



136 THE QUARTERLY REVIEW 

sublime poetry which he gave us in his preface to ' Rimini,' 
and the still more facetious instances of his harmony and 
sublimity in the verses themselves ; and they will recollect 
above all the contempt of Pope, Johnson, and such like 
poetasters and pseudo-critics, which so forcibly contrasted 
itself with Mr. Leigh Hunt's self-complacent approbation 
of 

— ' all the things itself had wrote, 

Of special merit though of little note.' 

This author is a copyist of Mr. Hunt ; but he is more 
unintelligible, almost as rugged, twice as diffuse, and 
ten times more tiresome and absurd than his prototype, 
who, though he impudently presumed to seat himself in 
the chair of criticism, and to measure his own poetry by 
his own standard, yet generally had a meaning. But Mr. 
Keats has advanced no dogmas which he was bound to 
support by examples ; his nonsense therefore is quite 
gratuitous ; he writes it for its own sake, and, being bitten 
by Mr. Leigh Hunt's insane criticism, more than rivals 
the insanity of his poetry. 

Mr. Keats's preface hints that his poem was produced 
under peculiar circumstances. 

'Knowing within m3fself (he says) the manner in which this 
Poem has been produced, it is not without a feeling of regret that 
I make it public. — What manner I mean, will be quite clear to the 
reader, who must soon perceive great inexperience, immaturity, 
and every error denoting a feverish attempt, rather than a deed 
accomplished.' — Preface, p. vii. 

We humbly beg his pardon, but this does not appear 
to us to be quite so clear — we really do not know what he 
means — but the next passage is more intelligible. 



KEATS' ENDYMION i37 

'The two first books, and indeed the two last, I feel sensil)le 
are not of such completion as to warrant their passing the press.' 
— Preface, p. vii. 

Thus ' the two first books ' are, even in his own judg- 
ment, unfit to appear, and ' the two last ' are, it seems. 
in the same condition — and as two and two make four, and 
as that is the whole number of books, we have a clear and, 
we believe, a very just estimate of the entire work. 

Mr. Keats, however, deprecates criticism on this ' im- 
mature and feverish work ' in terms which are themselves 
sufficiently feverish ; and we confess that we should have 
abstained from inflicting upon him any of the tortures 
of the ' fierce hell ' of criticism, which terrify his imagina- 
tion, if he had not begged to be spared in order that he 
might write more ; if we had not observed in him a cer- 
tain degree of talent which deserves to be put in the right 
way, or which, at least, ought to be warned of the wrong ; 
and if, finally, he had not told us that he is of an age and 
temper which imperiously require mental discipline. 

Of the story we have been able to make out but little ; 
it seems to be mythological, and probably relates to the 
loves of Diana and Endymion ; but of this, as the scope 
of the work has altogether escaped us, we cannot speak 
with any degree of certainty ; and must therefore content 
ourselves with giving some instances of its diction and 
versification : — and here again we are perplexed and 
puzzled. — At first it appeared to us, that Mr. Keats had 
been amusing himself and wearying his readers with an 
immeasurable game at bouts-runes; but, if we recollect 
rightly, it is an indispensable condition at this play, that 
the rhymes when filled up shall have a meaning; and 
our author, as we have alread}' hinted, has no meaning. 
He seems to us to write a line at random, and then he 
follows not the thought excited by this line, but that 



138 THE QUARTERLY REVIEW 

suggested by the rhyme with which it concludes. There 
is hardly a complete couplet enclosing a complete idea 
in the whole book. He wanders from one subject to an- 
other, from the association, not of the ideas but of sounds, 
and the work is composed of hemistichs which, it is quite 
evident, have forced themselves upon the author by the 
mere force of the catchwords on which they turn. 

We shall select, not as the most striking instance, 
but as that least liable to suspicion, a passage from the 
opening of the poem. 

' Such the sun, the moon, 

Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon 

For simple sheep ; and such are daffodils 

With the green world they live in; and clear rills 

That for themselves a cooling covert make 

'Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake. 

Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms : 

And such too is the grandeur of the dooms 

We have imagined for the mighty dead ; &c. &c.' — pp. 3, 4. 

Here it is clear that the word, and not the idea, moon 
produces the simple sheep and their shady boon, and 
that ' the dooms of the mighty dead ' would never have 
intruded themselves but for the ' fair musk -rose blooms.' 

Again. 

' For 'twas the morn : Apollo's upward fire 
Made every eastern cloud a silvery pyre 
Of brightness so unsullied, that therein 
A melancholy spirit well might win 
Oblivion, and melt out his essence fine 
Into the winds : rain-scented eglantine 
Gave temperate sweets to that well-wooing sun; 
The lark was lost in him ; cold springs had run 
To warm their chilliest bubbles in the grass; 
Man's voice was on the mountains ; and the mass 
Of nature's lives and wonders puls'd tenfold, 
To feel this sun-rise and its glories old.' — p. 8. 



KEATS' ENDYMION i39 

Here Apollo's fire produces a pyre, a silvery pyre of 
clouds, ivhcrcin a spirit may imn oblivion and melt his es- 
sence Unc, and scented eglantine gives sweets to the sun, 
and cold springs had run into the i^rass, and then the pulse 
of the mass pulsed tenfold to feel the glories old of the 
now-born day. &c. 

One example more. 

' Be still the unimaginable lodge 
For solitary thinkings ; such as dodge 
Conception to the very bourne of heaven, 
Then leave the naked brain : be still the leaven, 
That spreading in this dull and clodded earth 
Gives it a touch ethereal — a new birth.' — p. 17. 

Lodge, dodge — heaven, leaven — earth, birth; such, in 
six words, is the sum and substance of six lines. 

We come now to the author's taste in versification. 
He cannot indeed write a sentence, but perhaps he may 
be able to spin a line. Let us see. The following are 
specimens of his prosodial notions of our English heroic 
metre. 

' Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon, 
The passion poesy, glories infinite.' — p. 4. 

' So plenteously all weed-hidden roots.' — p. 6. 

' Of some strange history, potent to send.' — p. 18. 

' Before the deep intoxication.' — p. 27. 

* Her scarf into a fluttering pavilion.' — p. ;i2. 

' The stubborn canvass for my voyage prepared — .' 

— P- 39- 

' " Endymion ! the cave is secreter 
Than the isle of Delos. Echo hence shall stir 
No sighs but sigh-warm kisses, or light noise 
Of thy combing hand; the while it travelling cloys 
And trembles through my labvrinthine hair." ' — p. 48. 



I40 THE QUARTERLY REVIEW 

By this time our readers must be pretty well satisfied 
as to the meaning of his sentences and the structure of 
his lines : we now present them with some of the new 
words with which, in imitation of Mr. Leigh Hunt, he 
adorns our language. 

We are told that ' turtles passion their voices,' (p. 15) ; 
that 'an arbour was nested,' (p. 23) ; and a lady's locks 
' gordiand up,' (p. 32) ; and to supply the place of the 
nouns thus verbalized Mr. Keats, with great fecundity, 
spawns new ones : such as ' men-slugs and human ser- 
pentry,' (p. 41) ; the ' honey-feel of bliss,' (p. 45) ; ' wives 
prepare needments' (p. 13) — and so forth. 

Then he has formed new verbs by the process of cutting 
off their natural tails, the adverbs, and affixing them to 
their foreheads; thus, 'the wine out-sparkled,' (p. 10); 
the 'multitude up-followed,' (p. 11); and 'night up- 
took,' (p. 29). 'The wind up-blows,' (p. 32); and the 
'hours are down-sunken,' (p. 36.) 

But if he sinks some adverbs in the verbs, he compen- 
sates the language with adverbs and adjectives which 
he separates from the parent stock. Thus, a lady ' whis- 
pers pantingly and close,' makes 'hushing signs,' and 
steers her skiff into a 'ripply cove,' (p. 23) ; a shower 
falls ' refresh fully,' (45) ; and a vulture has a ' spreaded 
tail,' (p. 44.) 

But enough of Mr. Leigh Hunt and his simple neophyte. 
— If any one should be bold enough to purchase this 
' Poetic Romance,' and so much more patient, than our- 
selves, as to get beyond the first book, and so much more 
fortunate as to find a meaning, we entreat him to make 
us acquainted with his success ; we shall then return to 
the task which we now abandon in despair, and endeavour 
to make all due amends to Mr. Keats and to our readers. 
— The Quarterly Review. 



Cockney School of Poetry. 

No[.] IV. 
Of Keats, 



The Muses' son of promise, and what feats 
He yet may do, &c. 

Cornelius Webb. 

Of all the manias of this mad age. the most incurable 
as Nvell as the most common, seems to be no other than 
the Mctroiuanic. The just celebrity of Robert Burns 
and Miss Baillic has had the melancholy effect of turning 
the heads of we know not how many farm-servants and 
unmarried ladies ; our very footmen compose tragedies, 
and there is scarcely a superannuated governess in the 
island that does not leave a roll of lyrics behind her in 
her band-box. To witness the disease of any human 
understanding, however feeble, is distressing; but the 
spectacle of an able mind reduced to a state of insanity 
is of course ten times more afflicting. It is with such 
sorrow as this that we have contemplated the case of Mr 
John Keats. This young man appears to have received 
from nature talents of an excellent, perhaps even of a 
superior order — talents which, devoted to the purposes of 
any useful profession, must have rendered him a respec- 
table, if not an eminent citizen. His friends, we under- 
stand, destined him to the career of medicine, and he was 
bound apprentice some years ago to a worthy apothecary 
in town. But all has been undone by a sudden attack of 
the malady to which we have alluded. Whether Mr John 
had been sent home with a diuretic or composing draught 
141 



142 BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE 

to some patient far gone in the poetical mania, we have 
not heard. This much is certain, that he has caught the 
infection, and that thoroughly. For some time we were in 
hopes, that he might get ofif with a violent fit or two ; but 
of late the symptoms are terrible. The phrenzy of the 
" Poems " was bad enough in its way ; but it did not alarm 
us half so seriously as the calm, settled, imperturbable, 
drivelling idiocy of " Endymion." We hope, however, 
that in so young a person, and with a constitution origi- 
nally so good, even now the disease is not utterly incur- 
able. Time, firm treatment, and rational restraint, do 
much for man}- apparently hopeless invalids ; and if Mr 
Keats should happen, at some interval of reason, to cast 
his eye upon our pages, he may perhaps be convinced of 
the existence of his malady, which, in such cases, is often 
all that is necessary to put the patient in a fair way of 
being cured. 

The readers of the Examiner newspaper were informed, 
some time ago, by a solemn paragraph, in Mr Hunt's best 
style, of the appearance of two new stars of glorious mag- 
nitude and splendour in the poetical horizon of the land 
of Cockaigne. One of these turned out, by and by, to be 
no other than Mr John Keats. This precocious adulation 
confirmed the wavering apprentice in his desire to quit 
the gallipots, and at the same time excited in his too 
susceptible mind a fatal admiration for the character and 
talents of the most worthless and afifected of all the 
versifiers of our time. One of his first productions was 
the following sonnet, " n'ritten on the day ivhcn Mr Leigh 
Hunt left prison." It will be recollected, that the cause 
of Hunt's confinement was a series of libels against his 
sovereign, and that its fruit was the odious and incestuous 
" Story of Rimini." 



KEATS' END YM ION 143 

"What though, for sliewing truth to flattered state, 
Kind Hunt was shut in prison, yet has he, 
In his immortal spirit been as free 
As the sky-searching lark and as elate. 
Minion of grandeur! think you he did wait? 
Think you he nought but prison walls did see. 
Till, so unwilling, thou unturn'dst the key? 
Ah, no ! far happier, nobler was his fate ! 
In Spenser's halls! he strayed, and bowers fair, 
Culling enchanted flowers ; and he flew 
IVith daring Milton! through the fields of air; 
To regions of his own his genius true 
Took happy flights. Who shall his fame impair 
When thou art dead, and all thy wretched crew? 

The absurdity of the thought in this sonnet is, however, 
if possible, surpassed in another, " addressed to Haydon " 
the painter, that clever, but most affected artist, who as 
little resembles Raphael in genius as he does in person, 
notwithstanding the foppery of having his hair curled over 
his shoulders in the old Italian fashion. In this exquisite 
piece it will be observed, that Mr Keats classes together 
Wordsworth, Hunt, and Haydon, as the three greates" 
spirits of the age, and that he alludes to himself, and some 
others of the rising brood of Cockneys, as likely to attain 
hereafter an equally honourable elevation. W'ordsworth 
and Hunt ! what a juxta-position ! The purest, the lofti- 
est, and, we do not fear to say it, the most classical of 
living English poets, joined together in the same compli- 
ment with the ineanest, the filthiest, and the most vulgar of 
Cockney poetasters. No wonder that he who could be 
guilty of this should class Haydon with Raphael, and him- 
self with Spencer [sic^ . 

"Great spirits now on earth are sojourning; 
He of the cloud, the cataract, the lake. 
Who on Helvellyn's summit, wide awake, 



144 BLACKWOOD'S AlAGAZINE 

Catches his freshness from Archangel's wing: 
He of the rose, the violet, the spring. 
The social smile, the chain for Freedom's sake: 
And lo ! — whose steadfastness would never take 
A meaner sound than Raphael's whispering. 
And other spirits there are standing apart 
Upon the forehead of the age to come; 
These, these will give the world another heart, 
And other pulses. Hear ye not the hum 

Of mighty workings^' 

Listen azvhile ye nations, and he dumb. 

The nations are to listen and be dumb ! and why, good 
Johnny Keats? because Leigh Hunt is editor of the 
Examiner, and Haydon has painted the judgment of 
Solomon, and you and Cornelius Webb, and a few more 
city sparks, are pleased to look upon yourselves as so 
many future Shakespeares and Miltons ! The world has 
really some reason to look to its foundations ! Here is a 
tempestas in niatiila with a vengeance. At the period when 
these sonnets were published Mr Keats had no hesitation 
in saying that he looked on himself as " not yd a glorious 
denizen of the wide heaven of poetry," but he had many 
fine soothing visions of coming greatness, and many rare 
plans of study to prepare him for it. The following we 
think is very pretty raving. 

" Why so sad a moan ? 
Life is the rose's hope while yet unblown; 
The reading of an ever-changing tale; 
The light uplifting of a maiden's veil; 
A pigeon tumbling in clear summer air; 
A laughing school-boy, without grief or care 
Riding the springing branches of an elm. 

" O for ten years, that I may overwhelm 
IVIyself in poesy; so I may do the deed 
That my own soul has to itself decreed. 



KEATS' ENDYMION MS 

Then will I pass the countries that I see 

In long perspective, and continually 

Taste their pure fountains. First the realm I'll pass 

Of Flora, and old Pan : sleep in the grass, 

Feed on apples red, and strawberries, 

And choose each pleasure that my fancy sees. 

Catch the white-handed nymphs in shady places. 

To woo sweet kisses from averted faces, — 

Play with their fingers, touch their shoulders white 

Into a pretty shrinking with a bite 

As hard as lips can make it: till agreed, 

A lovely tale of human life we'll read. 

And one will teach a tame dove how it best 

May fan the cool air gently o'er my rest; 

Another, bending o'er her nimble tread. 

Will set a green robe floating round her head, 

And still will dance with ever varied ease. 

Smiling upon the flowers and the trees : 

Another -will entice me on, and on 

Through almond blossoms and rich cinnamon; 

Till in the bosom of a leafy world 

We rest in silence, like two gems upcurl'd 

In the recesses of a pearly shell." 

Having cooled a little from this " fine passion," our 
youthful poet passes very naturally into a long strain of 
foaming abuse against a certain class of English Poets, 
whom, v^ith Pope at their head, it is much the fashion with 
the ignorant unsettled pretenders of the present time to 
undervalue. Begging these gentlemens' pardon, although 
Pope was not a poet of the same high order with some 
who are now living, yet, to deny his genius, is just about 
as absurd as to dispute that of Wordsworth, or to believe 
in that of Hunt. Above all things, it is most pitiably 
ridiculous to hear men, of whom their country will al- 
ways have reason to be proud, reviled by uneducated and 
flimsy striplings, who are not capable of understanding 
either their merits, or those of any other men of power — 



146 BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE 

fanciful dreaming tea-drinkers, who, without logic enough 
to analyze a single idea, or imagination enough to form 
one original image, or learning enough to distinguish be- 
tween the written language of Englishmen and the spoken 
jargon of Cockneys, presume to talk with contempt of 
some of the most exquisite spirits the world ever pro- 
duced, merely because they did not happen to exert their 
faculties in laborious affected descriptions of flowers seen 
in window-pots, or cascades heard at Vauxhall ; in short, 
because they chose to be wits, philosophers, patriots, and 
poets, rather than to found the Cockney school of versi- 
fication, morality and politics, a century before its time. 
After blaspheming himself into a fury against Boileau, &c. 
Mr Keats comforts himself and his readers with a view 
of the present more promising aspect of affairs; above 
all, with the ripened glories of the poet of Rimini. Ad- 
dressing the manes of the departed chiefs of English 
poetry, he informs them, in the following clear and 
touching manner, of the existence of " him of the Rose," 

&c. 

" From a thick brake, 
Nested and quiet in a valley mild, 
Bubbles a pipe; fine sounds are floating wild 
About the earth. Happy are ye and glad." 

From this he diverges into a view of " things in gen- 
eral." We smile when we think to ourselves how little 
most of our readers will understand of what follows. 

"Yet I rejoice: a myrtle fairer than 
E'er grew in Paphos, from the bitter weeds 
Lifts its sweet head into the air, and feeds 
A silent space with ever sprouting green. 
All tenderest birds there find a pleasant screen, 
Creep through the shade with jaunty fluttering, 
Nibble the little cupped flowers and sing. 



KEATS' ENDYMION ^47 

Then let us clear away the choaking thorns 
From round its gentle stem ; let the young fawns, 
Yeaned in after times, when we are flown, 
Find a fresh sward beneath it, overgrown 
With simple flowers : let there nothing be 
More boisterous than a lover's bended knee; 
Nought more ungentle than the placid look 
• Of one who leans upon a closed book; 

Nought more untranquil than the grassy slopes 

Between two hills. All hail delightful hopes ! 

As she was wont, th' imagination 

Into most lovely labyrinths will be gone, 

And they shall be accounted poet kings 

Who simply tell the most heart-easing things. 

O may these joys he ripe before I die. 

Will not some say that I presumptuously 

Have spoken? that from hastening disgrace 

'Twere better far to hide my foolish face? 

That whining boyhood should with reverence bow 

Ere the dreadful thunderbolt could reach? How! 

If I do hide myself, it sure shall be 

In the very fane, the light of poesy." 

From some verses addressed to various amiable indi- 
vidtials of the other sex, it appears, notwithstanding all 
this gossamer-work, that Johnny's affections are not 
entirely confined to objects purely etherial. Take, by way 
of specimen, the following prurient and vulgar lines, evi- 
dently meant for some young lady east of Temple-bar. 

" Add too, the sweetness 
Of thy honied voice; the neatness 
Of thine ankle lightly turn'd: 
With those beauties, scarce discern'd, 
Kept with such sweet privacy, 
That they seldom meet the eye 
Of the little loves that fly 
Round about with eager pry. 
Saving when, with freshening lave, 
Thou dipp'st them in the taintless wave; 



148 BLACKWOOD'S AIAGAZLNE 

Like twin water lilies, bom 
In the coolness of the morn 
O, if thou hadst breathed then, 
Now the Muses had been ten. 
- Couldst thou wish for lineage higher 
Than twin sister of Thalia? 
At last for ever, evermore. 
Will I call the Graces four." 

Who will dispute that our poet, to use his own phrase 
(and rhyme), 

" Can mingle music fit for the soft car 
Of Lady Cytherca." 

So much for the opening bud ; now for the expanded 
flower. It is time to pass from the juvenile " Poems," 
to the mature and elaborate " Endymion, a Poetic Ro- 
mance." The old story of the moon falling in love with 
a shepherd, so prettily told by a Roman Classic, and so 
exquisitely enlarged and adorned by one of the most 
elegant of German poets, has been seized upon by Mr John 
Keats, to be done with as might seem good unto the 
sickly fancy of one who never read a single line either of 
Ovid or of Wieland. If the quantity, not the quality, of 
the verses dedicated to the story is to be taken into ac- 
count, there can be no doubt that Mr John Keats may now 
claim Endymion entirely to himself. To say the truth, we 
do not suppose either the Latin or the German poet would 
be very anxious to dispute about the property of the hero 
of the " Poetic Romance." Mr Keats has thoroughly 
appropriated the character, if not the name. His En- 
dymion is not a Greek shepherd, loved by a Grecian 
goddess ; he is merely a young Cockney rhymester, dream- 
ing a phantastic dream at the full of the moon. Costume, 
were it worth while to notice such a trifle, is violated in 



KEATS' ENDYMION i49 

every page of this goodly octavo. From his prototype 
Hunt, John Keats has acquired a sort of vague idea, that 
the Greeks were a most tasteful people, and that no 
mytholog}' can be so finely adapted for the purposes of 
poetry as theirs. It is amusing to see what a hand the 
two Cockneys make of this mythology ; the one confesses 
that he never read the Greek Tragedians, and the other 
knows Homer only from Chapman ; and both of them 
write about Apollo, Pan, Nymphs, Muses, and ^Mysteries, 
as might be expected from persons of their education. 
We shall not, however, enlarge at present upon this sub- 
ject, as we mean to dedicate an entire paper to the classical 
attainments and attempts of the Cockney poets. As for 
Mr Keats' " Endymion," it has just as much to do with 
Greece as it has with " old Tartary the fierce;" no man, 
whose mind has ever been imbued with the smallest 
knowledge or feeling of classical poetry or classical his- 
tory, could have stooped to profane and vulgarise every 
association in the manner which has been adopted by this 
" son of promise." Before giving any extracts, we must 
inform our readers, that this romance is meant to be 
written in English heroic rhyme. To those who have 
read any of Hunt's poems, this hint might indeed be need- 
less. Mr Keats has adopted the loose, nerveless versi- 
fication, and the Cockney rhymes of the poet of Rimini ; 
but in fairness to that gentleman, we must add, that the 
defects of the system are tenfold more conspicuous in 
his disciple's work than in his own. Mr Hunt is a small 
poet, but he is a clever man. Mr Keats is a still smaller 
poet, and he is only a boy of pretty abilities, which he has 
done everything in his power to spoil. 

[Quotes almost two hundred lines of Endymion with brief 
interpolated comment.] 



15° BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE 

And now, good-morrow to " the Muses' son of Prom- 
ise ; " as for " the feats he yet may do," as we do not 
pretend to say, like himself, " Muse of my native land 
am I inspired," we shall adhere to the safe old rule of 
panca verba. We venture to make one small prophecy, 
that his bookseller will not a second time venture £50 
upon any thing he can write. It is a better and a wiser 
thing to be a starved apothecary than a starved poet ; so 
back to the shop Mr John, back to " plasters, pills, and 
ointment boxes," &c. But, for Heaven's sake, young 
Sangrado, be a little more sparing of extenuatives and 
soporifics in your practice than you have been in your 
poetry. Z. 

— Blackwood's Magazine. 



Alfred Lord Tennyson 

Timbuctoo: a Poem, zvhich obtained the Chancellor's 
Medal at the Cambridge Commencement, by A. Tenny^ 
son, of Trinity College, Cambridge. 
We have accustomed ourselves to think, perhaps with- 
out any good reason, that poetry was likely to perish 
among us for a considerable period after the great gen- 
eration of poets which is now passing away. The age 
seems determined to contradict us, and that in the most 
decided manner, for it has put forth poetry by a young 
man, and that where we should least expect it, namely, in 
a prize-poem. These productions have often been in- 
genious and elegant, but we have never before seen one 
of them which indicated really first-rate poetical genius, 
and which would have done honour to any man that ever 
wrote. Such, we do not hesitate to affirm, is the little 
work before us ; and the examiners seem to have felt about 
it like ourselves, for they have assigned the prize to its 
author, though the measure in which he writes was never 
before (we believe) thus selected for honour. We ex- 
tract a few lines to justify our admiration. 

[Quotes fifty lines beginning: — 

" A curve of whitening, flashing, ebbing light ! 
A rustling of white wings ! the bright descent, etc.] 

How many men have lived for a century who could 
equal this? — The Athcnccum. 



-51 



Poems bv Alfred Tennyson, pp. 163. London. i2mo. 

1833. " 

This is, as some of his marginal notes intimate, Mr. 
Tennyson's second appearance. By some strange chance 
we have never seen his first pubhcation, which, if it at all 
resembles its younge[r] brother, must be by this time so 
popular that any notice of it on our part would seem idle 
and presumptuous ; but we gladly seize -this opportunity 
of repairing an unintentional neglect, and of introducing 
to the admiration of our more sequestered readers a new 
prodigy of genius — another and a brighter star of that 
galaxy or milky zvay of poetry of which the lamented 
Keats was the harbinger ; and let us take this occasion to 
sing our palinode on the subject of ' Endymion.' We 
certainly did not* discover in that poem the same degree 
of merit that its more clear-sighted and prophetic admirers 
did. We did not foresee the unbounded popularity which 
has carried it through we know not how many editions; 
which has placed it on every table ; and, what is still more 
unequivocal, familiarized it in every mouth. All this 
splendour of fame, however, though we had not the 
sagacity to anticipate, we have the candour to acknowl- 
edge : and we request that the publisher of the new and 
beautiful edition of Keats's works now in the press, with 
graphic illustrations by Calcott and Turner, will do us 
the favour and the justice to notice our conversion in his 
prolegomena. 

Warned by our former mishap, wiser by experience, 
and improved, as we hope, in taste, we have to offer Mr. 
Tennyson our tribute of unmingled approbation, and it is 

* See Quarterly Review, vol. XIX, p. 204. 

152 



TENNYSON'S POEMS I53 

very agreeable to us, as well as to our readers, that our 
present task will be little more than the selection, for their 
delight, of a few specimens of Mr. Tennyson's singular 
genius, and the venturing to point out, now and then, the 
peculiar brilliancy of some of the gems that irradiate his 
poetical crown. 

A prefatory sonnet opens to the reader the aspirations 
of the young author, in which, after the manner of sundry 
poets, ancient and modern, he expresses his own peculiar 
character, by wishing himself to be something that he 
is not. The amorous Catullus aspired to be a sparrow ; 
the tuneful and convivial Anacreon (for we totally reject 
the supposition that attributes the 'EtOt h'jp-q xalq ytvoi'iriv 
to Alcseus) wished to be a lyre and a great drinking cup; 
a crowd of more modern sentimentalists have desired to 
approach their mistresses as flowers, tunicks, sandals, 
birds, breezes, and butterflies ; — all poor conceits of nar- 
row-minded poetasters ! Mr, Tennyson (though he, too, 
would, as far as his true love is concerned, not unwillingly 
' be an earring,' ' a girdle,' and ' a necklace,' p. 45) in the 
more serious and solemn exordium of his works ambitions 
a bolder metamorphosis — he wishes to be — a river! 

SONNET. 

' Mine be the strength of spirit fierce and free. 
Like some broad river rushing down alone '- 

rivers that travel in company are too common for his 
taste — 

' With the self-same impulse wherewith he was thrown' — 

a beautiful and harmonious line — 

' From his loud fount upon the echoing lea : — 
Which, with increasing might, doth fom'ard Hee ' — 



154 THE QUARTERLY REVIEW 

Every word of this line is valuable — the natural prog- 
ress of human ambition is here strongly characterized — 
two lines ago he would have been satisfied with the self- 
same impulse — but now he must have increasing might ; 
and indeed he would require all his might to accomplish 
his object of fleeing forzvard, that is, going backwards 
and forwards at the same time. Perhaps he uses the 
word flee for Uozv; which latter he could not well employ 
in this place, it being, as we shall see, essentially necessary 
to rhyme to Mexico towards the end of the sonnet — 
as an equivalent to floiv he has, therefore, with great taste 
and ingenuity, hit on the combination of forward flee — 

' doth forward flee 



By town, and tower, and hill, and cape, and isle, 
And in the middle of the green salt sea 
Keeps his blue waters fresh for many a mile.' 

A noble wish, beautifully expressed, that he may not 
be confounded with the deluge of ordinary poets, but, 
amidst their discoloured and briny ocean, still preserve 
his own bright tints and sweet savor. He may be at ease 
on this point — he never can be mistaken for any one else. 
We have but too late become acquainted with him, yet we 
assure ourselves that if a thousand anonymous specimens 
were presented to us, we should unerringly distinguish 
his by the total absence of any particle of salt. But again, 
his thoughts take another turn, and he reverts to the 
insatiability of human ambition : — we have seen him just 
now content to be a river, but as he flees forzuard, his de- 
sires expand into sublimity, and he wishes to become the 
great Gulfstream of the Atlantic. 

' Mine be the power which ever to its sway 
Will win the wise at once — 



TENNYSON'S POEMS 155 

We, for once, are wise, and he has won us — 

'Will win the wise at once; and by degrees 
May into uncongenial spirits flow, 
Even as the great gulphstream of Florida 
Floats far away into the Northern seas 
The lavish growths of southern Mexico/' — p. i. 

And so concludes the sonnet. 

The next piece is a kind of testamentary paper, ad- 
dressed ' To ,' a friend, we presume, containing his 

wishes as to what his friend should do for him when he 
(the poet) shall be dead — not, as we shall see, that he 
quite thinks that such a poet can die outright. 

* Shake hands, my friend, across the brink 

Of that deep grave to which I go. 

Shake hands once more; I cannot sink 

So far — far down, but I shall know 

Thy voice, and answer from below !' 

Horace said ' non omnis moriar,' meaning that his 
fame should survive — Mr, Tennyson is still more viva- 
cious, * non omnino moriar,' — ' I will not die at all ; my 
body shall be as immortal as my verse, and however lozv 
I may go, I warrant you I shall keep all my wits about 
me, — therefore ' 

' When, in the darkness over me. 

The four-handed mole shall scrape. 
Plant thou no dusky cypress tree, 
Nor wreath thy cap with doleful crape, 
But pledge me in the flowing grape.' 

Observe how all ages become present to the mind of a 
great poet ; and admire how naturally he combines the 
funeral cypress of classical antiquity with the crape hat- 
band of the modern undertaker. 



156 THE QUARTERLY REVIEW 

He proceeds : — 

' And when the sappy field and wood 

Grow green beneath the showery gray, 
And rugged barks begin to bud, 
And through damp hohs, newflushed with May, 
Ring sudden laughters of the jay!' 

Laughter, the philosophers tell us, is a peculiar attribute 
of man — but as Shakespeare found * tongues in trees and 
sermons in stones,' this true poet endows all nature not 
merely with human sensibilities but with human func- 
tions — the jay laughs, and we find, indeed, a little further 
on, that the woodpecker laughs also ; but to mark the dis- 
tinction between their merriment and that of men, both 
jays and woodpeckers laugh upon melancholy occasions. 
We are glad, moreover, to observe, that Mr. Tennyson is 
prepared for, and therefore will not be disturbed by, 
human laughter, if any silly reader should catch the in- 
fection from the woodpeckers and the jays. 

'Then let wise Nature work her will, 
And on my clay her darnels grow. 
Come only when the days are still, 
And at my head-stone whisper low, 
And tell me ' — 

Now, what would an ordinary bard wish to be told 
under such circumstances? — why, perhaps, how his 
sweetheart was, or his child, or his family, or how the 
Reform Bill worked, or whether the last edition of his 
poems had been sold — papa! our genuine poet's first 
wish is 

' And tell me — if the woodbines blots.'!' 

When, indeed, he shall have been thus satisfied as to 
the woodbines, (of the blowing of which in their due sea- 



TENNYSON'S POEMS 157 

son he may, we think, feel pretty secure,) he turns a 
passing thought to his friend — and another to his 
mother — 

'If thou art blest, my mother's smile 
Undimmed ' — 

but such inquiries, short as they are, seem too common- 
place, and he immediately glides back into his curiosity as 
to the state of the weather and the forwardness of the 
spring — 

' If thou art blessed — my mother's smile 
Undimmed — if bees are on the wing?' 

No, we believe the whole circle of poetry does not fur- 
nish such another instance of enthusiasm for the sights 
and sounds of the vernal season ! — The sorrows of a 
bereaved inother rank after the blossoms of the zi'oodhine, 
and just before the hummings of the hcc; and this is all 
that he has any curiosity about ; for he proceeds : — 

' Then cease, my friend, a little while 
That I may ' — 

' send my love to my mother,' or ' give you some hints 
about bees, which I have picked up from Aristaeus, in the 
Elysian Fields,' or ' tell you how I am situated as to my 
own personal comforts in the world below ' ? — oh no — 

' That I may — hear the throstle sing 
His bridal song — the boast of spring. 

Sweet as the noise, in parched plains, 
Of bubbling wells that fret the stones, 

(If any sense in me remains) 
Thy words will be — thy cheerful tones 
As welcome to — my crumbling bones!' — p. 4. 



158 THE QUARTERLY REVIEW 

'// any sense in me remains!' — This doubt is incon- 
sistent with the opening stanza of the piece, and, in fact, 
too modest ; we take upon ourselves to re-assure Mr. 
Tennyson, that, even after he shall be dead and buried, as 
much ' sense ' will still remain as he has now the good 
fortune to possess. 

We have quoted these first two poems in extenso, to 
obviate any suspicion of our having made a partial or de- 
lusive selection. We cannot afford space — we wish we 
could — for an equally minute examination of the rest of 
the volume, but we shall make a few extracts to show — 
what we solemnly affirm — that every page teems with 
beauties hardly less surprising. 

The Lady of Shalott is a poem in four parts, the story 
of which we decline to maim by such an analysis as we 
could give, but it opens thus — 

' On either side the river lie 
Long fields of barley and of rye, 
That clothe the wold and meet the sky — 
And through the field the road runs by.' 

The Lady of Shalott was, it seems, a spinster who had, 
under some unnamed penalty, a certain web to weave. 

' Underneath the bearded barley, 
The reaper, reaping late and early, 
Hears her ever chanting cheerly. 
Like an angel singing clearly . . . 

' No time has she for sport or play, 
A charmed web she weaves alway ; 
A curse is on her if she stay 
Her weaving either night or day ... 

* She knows not ' — 

Poor lady, nor we either — 



TENNYSON'S POEMS i59 

' She knows not what that curse may be, 
Therefore she weaveth steadily; 
Therefore no other care has she 
The Lady of Shalott.' 

A knight, however, happens to ride past her window, 
coming 



-' from Camelot ;* 



From the bank, and from the river, 
He flaslicd into the crystal mirror — 
" Tirra lirra, tirra lirra," (lirrarf) 

Sang Sir Launcelot.' — p. 15. 

The lady stepped to the window to look at the stranger, 
and forgot for an instant her web : — the curse fell on her, 
and she died ; why, how, and wherefore, the following 
stanzas will clearly and pathetically explain : — 

' A long drawn carol, mournful, holy, 
She chanted loudly, chanted lowly, 
Till her eyes were darkened zvholly, 
And her smooth face sharpened slozvly, 

Turned to towered Camelot. 
For ere she reached upon the tide 
The first house on the water side, 
Singing in her song she died. 

The Lady of Shalott! 
Knight and burgher, lord and dame. 
To the planked wharfage came ; 
Below the stern they read her name, 
'^ The Lady of Shalott.' — p. 19. 

We pass by two — what shall we call thetn ? — tales, or 
odes, or sketches, entitled ' Mariana in the South ' and 

* The seme Camelot, in Somersetshire, we presume, which is 
alluded to by Kent in ' King Lear ' — 

'Goose! if I had thee upon Sarum plain, 
I'd drive thee cackling home to Camelot.' 



i6o THE QUARTERLY REVIEW 

' Eleanore,' of which we fear we could make no intelli- 
gible extract, so curiously are they run together into one 
dreamy tissue — to a little novel in rhyme, called ' The 
Miller's Daughter.' Millers' daughters, poor things, have 
been so generally betrayed by their sweethearts, that it is 
refreshing to find that Mr. Tennyson has united himself 
to his miller's daughter in lawful wedlock, and the poem 
is a history of his courtship and wedding. He begins 
with a sketch of his own birth, parentage, and personal 
appearance — 

' My father's mansion, mounted high, 
Looked down upon the village-spire; 
I was a long and listless boy, 

And son and heir unto the Squire.' 

But the son and heir of Squire Tennyson often de- 
scended from the ' mansion mounted high ;' and 

' I met in all the close green ways, 

While walking with my line and rod,' 

A metonymy for ' rod and line ' — 

* The wealthy miller's mealy face, 
Like the moon in an ivytod. 

'He looked so jolly and so good — 
While fishing in the mill-dam water, 
I laughed to see him as he stood, 

And dreamt not of the miller's daughter.' — p. 23- 

He, however, soon saw, and, need we add, loved the 
miller's daughter, whose countenance, we presume, bore 
no great resemblance either to the ' mealy face ' of the 
miller, or ' the moon in an ivy-tod ;' and we think our 
readers will be delighted at the way in which the im- 



TENNYSON'S POEMS ' i6i 

passioned husband relates to his wife how his fancy 
mingled enthusiasm for rural sights and sounds, with a 
prospect of the less romantic scene of her father's occupa- 
tion. 

' How dear to me in youth, my love, 
Was everything about the mill ; 
The black, the silent pool above. 

The pool beneath that ne'er stood still; 

The meal-sacks on the whitened floor, 
The dark round of the dripping wheel, 

The very air about the door, 
Made misty zvith the floating meal!' — p. 36. 

The accumulation of tender images in the following 
lines appears not less wonderful : — 

' Remember you that pleasant day 
When, after roving in the woods, 
('Twas April then) I came and lay 
Beneath those gummy chestnut-buds? 

' A water-rat from of: the bank 

Plunged in the stream. With idle care, 
Downlooking through the sedges rank, 
I saw your troubled image there. 

' If you remember, you had set, 

Upon the narrow casement-edge, 
A long green box of mignonette 

And you were leaning on the ledge.' 

The poet's truth to Nature in his * gummy ' chestnut- 
buds, and to Art in the ' long green box ' of mignonette — 
and that masterful touch of likening the first intrusion of 
love into the virgin bosom of the Miller's daughter to 
the plunging of a water-rat into the mill-dam — these are 
beauties which, we do not fear to say, equal anything 
even in Keats. 
14 



i62 THE QUARTERLY REVIEW 

We pass by several songs, sonnets, and small pieces, 
all of singular merit, to arrive at a class, we may call 
them, of three poems derived from mythological sources — 
CEnone, the Hesperides, and the Lotos-eaters. But 
though the subjects are derived from classical antiquity, 
Mr. Tennyson treats them with so much originality that 
he makes them exclusively his own. CEnone, deserted by 

' Beautiful Paris, evilhearted Paris,' 

sings a kind of dying soliloquy addressed to Mount Ida, 
in a formula which is sixteen times repeated in this short 
poem. 

' Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.' 

She tells her ' dear mother Ida,' that when evilhearted 
Paris was about to judge between the three goddesses, he 
hid her (CEnone) behind a rock, whence she had a full 
view of the naked beauties of the rivals, which broke 
her heart. 

'Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die: — 
It was the deep mid noon : one silvery cloud 
Had lost his way among the pined hills : 
They came — all three — the Olympian goddesses. 
Naked they came— 

How beautiful they were! too beautiful 
To look upon ; but Paris was to me 
More lovelier than all the world beside. 
O mother Ida, hearken ere I die.' — p. 56. 

In the place where we have indicated a pause, follows 
a description, long, rich, and luscious — Of the three naked 
goddesses ? Fye for shame — no — of the ' lily flower violet- 
eyed,' and the ' singing pine,' and the ' overwandering ivy 
and vine,' and ' festoons,' and ' gnarled boughs,' and * tree 



TENNYSON'S POEMS 163 

tops,' and ' berries,' antl ' llowers,' and all the inanimate 
beauties of the scene. It would be unjust to the ingcnuns 
pndor of the author not to observe the art with which he 
has veiled this ticklish interview behind such luxuriant 
trellis-work, and it is obvious that it is for our special 
sakes he has entered into these local details, because if 
there was one thing which ' mother Ida ' knew better 
than another, it must have been her own bushes and 
brakes. We then have in detail the tempting speeches of, 
first — 

' The imperial Olympian, 

With arched eyebrow smiling sovranly, 

Full-eyed Here;' 

secondly of Pallas — 

' Fler clear and bared limbs 
O'er-thwarted with the brazen-headed spear,' 

and thirdly — 

* Idalian Aphrodite ocean-born, 
Fresh as the foam, new-bathed in Paphian wells — ' 

for one dip, or even three dips in one well, would not have 
been enough on such an occasion — and her succinct and 
prevailing promise of — 

'The fairest and most loving zvifc in Greece;' — 

upon evil-hearted Paris's catching at which prize, the 
tender and chaste CEnone exclaims her mdignation, that 
she herself should not be considered fair enough, since 
only yesterday her charms had struck awe into — 

' A wild and wanton pard, 
Eyed like the evening-star, with playful tail — ' 



i64 THE QUARTERLY REVIEW 

and proceeds in this anti-Martineau rapture — 

'Most loving is she?' 
* Ah me ! my mountain shepherd, that my arms 
Were wound about thee, and my hot lips prest 
Close — close to thine in that quick-falling dew 
Of fruitful kisses . . . 
Dear mother Ida ! hearken ere I die ! — p. 62. 

After such reiterated assurances that she was about to 
die on the spot, it appears that CEnone thought better of 
it, and the poem conchides with her taking the wiser 
course of going to town to consult her swain's sister, 
Cassandra — whose advice, we presume, prevailed upon 
her to live, as we can, from other sources, assure our 
readers she did to a good old age. 

In the ' Hesperides ' our author, with great judgment, 
rejects the common fable, which attributes to Hercules the 
slaying of the dragon and the plunder of the golden fruit. 
Nay, he supposes them to have existed to a comparatively 
recent period — namely, the voyage of Hanno, on the 
coarse canvas of whose log-book ^iv. Tennyson has 
judiciously embroidered the Hesperian romance. The 
poem opens with a geographical description of the neigh- 
bourhood, which must be very clear and satisfactory to 
the English reader ; indeed, it leaves far behind in accu- 
racy of topography and melody of rhythm the heroics of 
Dionysius Pcriegctes. 

' The north wind fall'n, in the new-starred night.' 

Here we must pause to observe a new species of 
mctahole with which Mr. Tennyson has enriched our lan- 
guage. He suppresses the E in fallen, where it is usually 
written and where it must be pronounced, and transfers 
it to the word new-starred, where it would not be pro- 



TENNYSON'S POEMS 165 

nounced if he did not take due care to superfix a grave 
accent. This use of the grave accent is, as our readers 
may have already perceived, so habitual with Mr. Tenny- 
son, and is so obvious an improvement, that we really 
wonder how the language has hitherto done without it. 
We are tempted to suggest, that if analogy to the accented 
languages is to be thought of, it is rather the acute (') 
than the grave (^) which should be employed on such 
occasions ; but we speak with profound diffidence ; and as 
Mr. Tennyson is the inventor of the system, we shall bow 
with respect to whatever his final determination may be. 

' The north wind fall'n, in the new-starred night 
Zidonian Hanno, voyaging beyond 
The hoary promontory of Soloe, 
• Past Thymiaterion in calmed bays.' 

We must here note specially the musical flow of this last 
line, which is the more creditable to Mr. Tennyson, be- 
cause it was before the tuneless names of this very neigh- 
bourhood that the learned continuator of Dionysius re- 
treated in despair — 



AWioTTuv yalv, 6va<puvHq ad' Eiriijpnvq 

Msffatf HVEKa raad' iyu ovk ayopevaofi' anaaaq. 

but Mr. Tennyson is bolder and happier — 

* Past Thymiaterion in calmed bays, 
Between the southern and the western Horn, 
Heard neither ' — 

We pause for a moment to consider what a sea-captain 
might have expected to hear, by night, in the Atlantic 
ocean — he heard 

— ' neither the warbling of the nightingale 
Nor melody o' the Libyan lotusflute,' 



1 66 THE QUARTERLY REVIEW 

but he did hear the three daughters of Hesper singing the 
following song : — 

' The golden apple, the golden apple, the hallowed fruit, 
Guard it well, guard it warily, 
Singing airily, 

Standing about the charmed root. 
Round about all is mute ' — 

mute, though they sung so loud as to be heard some 
leagues out at sea — 

' all is mute 



As the snow-field on mountain peaks. 
As the sand-field at the mountain foot. 
Crocodiles in briny creeks 
Sleep, and stir not : all is mute.' 

How admirably do these lines describe the peculiarities of 
this charmed neighbourhood — fields of snow, so talkative 
when they happen to lie at the foot of the mountain, are 
quite out of breath when they get to the top, and the 
sand, so noisy on the summit of a hill, is dumb at its foot. 
The very crocodiles, too, are nmte — not dumb but mute. 
The ' red-combed dragon curl'd ' is next introduced — 

' Look to him, father, lest he wink, and the golden apple be 

stolen away, 
For his ancient heart is drunk with overwatchings night 

and day, 
Sing away, sing aloud evermore, in the wind, without stop.' 

The north wind, it appears, has by this time awaked 
again — 

' Lest his scaled e3'elid drop. 
For he is older than the world ' — 

older than the hills, besides not rhyming to ' curl'd,' would 



TENNYSON'S POEMS 167 

hardly have been a sufficiently venerable phrase for this 
most harmonious of lyrics. It proceeds — 

' If ye sing not, if ye make false measure, 
We shall lose eternal pleasure, 
Worth eternal want of rest. 
Laugh not loudly : watch the treasure 
Of the wisdom of the west. 
In a corner wisdom whispers. Five and three 
(Let it not be preached abroad) make an awful mystery.' 

— p. 102. 

This recipe for keeping a secret, by singing it so loud as 
to be heard for miles, is almost the only point, in all Mr. 
Tennyson's poems, in which we can trace the remotest ap- 
proach to anything like what other men have written, but 
it certainly does remind us of the ' chorus of conspirators ' 
in the Rovers. 

Hanno, however, who understood no language but 
Punic — (the Hesperides sang, we presume, either in 
Greek or in English) — appears to have kept on his way 
without taking any notice of the song, for the poem con- 
cludes, — 

* The apple of gold hangs over the sea, 
Five links, a gold chain, are we, 
Hesper, the Dragon, and sisters three; 
Daughters three, 
Bound about 
All around about 

The gnarled bole of the charmed tree, 
The golden apple, the golden apple, the hallowed fruit. 
Guard it well, guard it warily. 
Watch it warily. 
Singing airily 
Standing about the charmed root.' — p. 107. 

We hardly think that, if Hanno had translated it into 
Punic, the song would have been more intelligible. 



1 68 THE QUARTERLY REVIEW 

The ' Lotuseaters ' — a kind of classical opium-eaters — 
are Ulysses and his crew. They land on the ' charmed 
island,' and * eat of the charmed root,' and then they 
sing— 

' Long enough the winedark wave our weary bark did carry. 
This is lovelier and sweeter. 
Men of Ithaca, this is meeter, 
In the hollow rosy vale to tarry, 
Like a dreamy Lotuseater — a delicious Lotuseater ! 
We will eat the Lotus, sweet 
As the yellow honeycomb ; 
In the valley some, and some 
On the ancient heights divine. 
And no more roam, 
On the loud hoar foam. 
To the melancholy home, 
At the limits of the brine, 
The little isle of Ithaca, beneath the day's decline.' — p. ii6. 

Our readers will, we think, agree that this is admirably 
characteristic, and that the singers of this song must have 
made pretty free with the intoxicating fruit. How they 
got home you must read in Homer : — Mr. Tennyson — 
himself, we presume, a dreamy lotus-eater, a delicious 
lotus-eater — leaves them in full song. 

Next comes another class of poems, — Visions. The 
first is the ' Palace of Art,' or a fine house, in which the 
poet dreams that he sees a very fine collection of well- 
known pictures. An ordinary versifier would, no doubt, 
have followed the old routine, and dully described himself 
as walking into the Louvre, or Buckingham Palace, and 
there seeing certain masterpieces of painting : — a true poet 
dreams it. We have not room to hang many of these 
chefs-d'oeuvre, but for a few we must find space. — 'The 
Madonna ' — 



TENNYSON'S POEMS 169 

' The maid mother by a crucifix, 
In yellow pastures sunny warm, 
Beneath branch work of costly sardonyx 
Sat smiling — babe in arm.' — p. 72. 

The use of the latter, apparently, colloquial phrase is a 
deep stroke of art. The form of expression is always 
used to express an habitual and characteristic action. A 
knight is described 'lance in rest' — a dragoon, ' szvord in 
hand ' — so, as the idea of the Virgin is inseparably con- 
nected with her child, Mr. Tennyson reverently describes 
her conventional position — ' babe in arm,' 

His gallery of illustrious- portraits is thus admirably 
arranged : — The Madonna — Ganymede — St. Cecilia — Eu- 
ropa — Deep-haired Milton — Shakspeare — Grim Dante — 
Michael Angelo — Luther — Lord Bacon — Cervantes — Cal- 
deron — King David — ' the Halicarnassean ' (quaere, 
which of them?) — Alfred, (not Alfred Tennyson, though 
no doubt in any other man's gallery he would have a 
place) and finally — 

' Isaiah, with fierce Ezekiel, 

Swarth Moses by the Coptic sea, 
Plato, Petrarca, Livy, and Raphael, 
And eastern Confutzee!' 

We can hardly suspect the very original mind of Mr. 
Tennyson to have harboured any recollections of that 
celebrated Doric idyll, ' The groves of Blarney,' but cer- 
tainly there is a strong likeness between Mr. Tennyson's 
list of pictures and the Blarney collection of statutes — 

' Statues growing that noble place in, 
All heathen goddesses most rare. 
Homer, Plutarch, and Nebuchadnezzar, 
All standing naked in the open air!' 



17° THE QUARTERLY REVIEW 

In this poem we first observed a stroke of art (repeated 
afterwards) which we think very ingenious. No one who 
has ever written verse but must have felt the pain of 
erasing some happy line, some striking stanza, which, 
however excellent in itself, did not exactly suit the place 
for which it was destined. How curiously does an 
author mould and remould the plastic verse in order to 
fit in the favourite thought ; and when he finds that he 
cannot introduce it, as Corporal Trim says, any hoiv, with 
what reluctance does he at last reject the intractable, but 
still cherished ofifspring of his brain ! Mr. Tennyson man- 
ages this delicate matter in a new and better way ; he says, 
with great candour and simplicity, ' If this poem were not 
already too long, / should have added the following 
stanzas,' and then he adds them, (p. 84 ;) — or, ' the follow- 
ing lines are manifestly superfluous, as a part of the text, 
but they may be allowed to stand as a separate poem,' 
(p. 121,) which they do; — or, ' I intended to have added 
something on statuary, but I found it very difficult ;' — 
(he had, moreover, as we have seen, been anticipated in 
this line by the Blarney poet) — ' but I have finished the 
statues of Elijah and Olympias — judge whether I have 
succeeded,' (p. 73) — and then we have these two statues. 
This is certainly the most ingenious device that has ever 
come under our observation, for reconciling the rigour of 
criticism with the indulgence of parental partiality. It 
is economical too, and to the reader profitable, as by 
these means 

' We lose no drop of the immortal man.' 

The other vision is ' A Dream of Fair Women,' in 
which the heroines of all ages — some, indeed, that belong 
to the times of ' heathen goddesses most rare ' — pass be- 
fore his view. We have not time to notice them all, but 



TENNYSON'S POEMS 171 

the second, whom we take to be Iphigenia, touches the 
heart with a stroke of nature more powerful than even 
the veil that the Grecian painter threw over the head of 
her father. 

' dimly I could descry 



The stern blackbearded kings with wolfish eyes, 
Watching to see me die. 

The tall masts quivered as they lay afloat; 

The temples, and the people, and the shore; 
One drew a sharp knife through my tender throat — 

Slowly, — and nothing more!' 

What touching simplicity — what pathetic resignation — 
he cut my throat — 'nothing more!' One might indeed 
ask, ' what more' she would have? 

But we must hasten on ; and to tranquillize the reader's 
mind after this last affecting scene, shall notice the only 
two pieces of a lighter strain which the volume affords. 
The first is elegant and playful ; it is a description of the 
author's study, which he affectionately calls his Darling 
Room. 

' O darling room, my heart's delight ; 

Dear room, the apple of my sight; 

With thy two couches, soft and white, 

There is no room so exquisite; 

No little room so warm and bright. 

Wherein to read, wherein to write.' 

We entreat our readers to note how, even in this little 
trifle, the singular taste and genius of Mr. Tennyson 
break forth. In such a dear little room a narrow-minded 
scribbler would have been content with one sofa, and that 
one he would probably have covered with black mohair, 
or red cloth, or a good striped chintz ; how infinitely more 



172 THE QUARTERLY REVIEW 

characteristic is white dimity ! — 'tis as it were a type of 
the purity of the poet's mind. He proceeds — 

* For I the Nonnenwerth have seen, 
And Obervvinter's vineyards green, 
Musical Lurlei ; and between 
The hills to Bingen I have been, 
Bingen in Darmstadt, where the Rhene 
Curves tow-ard Mentz, a woody scene. 

'Yet never did there meet my sight. 
In any town, to left or right, 
A little room so exquistV^, 
With tzvo such couches soft and white; 
Nor any room so warm and bright, 
Wherein to read, wherein to write.' — p. 153. 

A common poet would have said that he had been in 
London or in Paris — in the loveHest villa on the banks 
of the Thames, or the most gorgeous chateau on the Loire 
— that he has reclined in Madame de Stael's boudoir, and 
mused in Mr. Roger's comfortable study ; but the darling 
room of the poet of nature (which we must suppose to be 
endued with sensibility, or he would not have addressed 
it) would not be flattered with such common-place com- 
parisons ; — no, no, but it is something to have it said that 
there is no such room in the ruins of the Drachenfels, in 
the vineyard of Oberwinter, or even in the rapids of the 
Rhene, under the Lurleyberg. We have ourselves visited 
all these celebrated spots, and can testify in corroboration 
of Mr. Tennyson, that we did not see in any of them any- 
thing like this little room so exqitisiTE. 

The second of the lighter pieces, and the last with which 
we shall delight our readers, is a severe retaliation on the 
editor of the Edinburgh Magazine, who, it seems, had not 
treated the first volume of Mr. Tennyson with the same 
respect that we have, we trust, evinced for the second. 



TENNYSON'S POEMS i73 

' To Christopher North. 
You did late review my lays. 

Crusty Christopher ; 
You did mingle blame and praise 
Rusty Christopher. 

When I learnt from whom it came 
I forgave you all the blame, 

Musty Christopher; 
I could not forgive the praise, 

Fusty Christopher.' — p. 153. 

Was there ever anything so genteelly turned — so terse 
— so sharp — and the point so stinging and so true? 

' I could not forgive the praise, 
Fusty Christopher!' 

This leads us to observe on a phenomenon which we 
have frequently seen, but never been able to explain. It 
has been occasionally our painful lot to excite the dis- 
pleasure of authors whom we have reviewed, and who 
have vented their dissatisfaction, some in prose, some in 
verse, and some in what we could not distinctly say 
whether it was verse or prose; but we have invariably 
found that the common formula of retort was that adopted 
by Mr. Tennyson against his northern critic, namely, that 
the autho.. would always 

— Forgive us all the blame. 
But could not forgive the praise. 

Now this seems very surprising. It has sometimes, 
though we regret to say rarely, happened, that, as in the 
present instance, we have been able to deal out unqualified 
praise, but never found that the dose in this case dis- 
agreed with the most squeamish stomach ; on the con- 



174 THE QUARTERLY REVIEW 

trary, the patient has always seemed exceedingly comfort- 
able after he had swallowed it. He has been known to 
take the ' Review ' home and keep his wife from a ball, 
and his children from bed, till he could administer it to 
them, by reading the article aloud. He has even been 
heard to recommend the ' Review ' to his acquaintance at 
the clubs, as the best number which has yet appeared, and 
one, who happened to be an M.P. as well as an author, 
gave a conditional order, that in case his last work should 
be favourably noticed, a dozen copies should be sent down 

by the mail to the borough of . But, on the other 

hand, wdien it has happened that the general course of our 
criticism has been unfavourable, if by accident we hap- 
pened to introduce the smallest spice of praise, the patient 
immediately fell into paroxysms — declaring that the part 
which we foolishly thought miglit oflfend him had, on the 
contrary, given him pleasure — positive pleasure, but that 
which he could not possibly either forget or forgive, was 
the grain of praise, be it ever so small, which we had 
dropped in, and for which, and not for our censure, he 
felt constrained, in honour and conscience, to visit us with 
his extreme indignation. Can any reader or writer in- 
form us how it is that praise in the wholesale is so very 
agreeable to the very same stomach that rejects it with dis- 
gust and loathing, when it is scantily administered; and 
above all, can they tell us why it is, that the indignation 
and nausea should be in the exact inverse ratio to the 
quantity of the ingredient? These effects, of which we 
could quote several cases much more violent than Mr. 
Tennyson's, puzzle us exceedingly; but a learned friend, 
whom we have consulted, has, though he could not account 
for the phenomenon, pointed out what he thought an 
analogous case. It is related of Mr. Alderman Faulkner, 
of convivial memory, that one night wlien he expected his 



TENNYSON'S POEMS i75 

guests to sit late and try the strength of his claret and his 
head, he took the precaution of placing in his wine-glass 
a strawberry, which his doctor, he said, had recommended 
to him on account of its cooling qualities : on the faith of 
this specific, he drank even more deeply, and, as might be 
expected, was carried away at an earlier period and in 
rather a worse state, than was usual with him. When 
some of his friends condoled with him next day, and 
attributed his misfortune to six bottles of claret which he 
had imbibed, the Alderman was extremely indignant — 
' the claret,' he said, ' was sound, and never could do any 
man any harm — his discomfiture was altogether caused by 
that damned single strawberry ' which he had kept all 
night at the bottom of his glass. — The Quarterly Review. 



The Princess; a Medley. By Alfred Tennyson. Moxon. 

That we are behind most even of our heaviest and 
slowest contemporaries in the notice of this volume, is 
a fact for which we cannot satisfactorily account to our- 
selves, and can therefore hardly hope to be able to make 
a valid excuse to our readers. The truth is, that when- 
ever we turned to it we became, like the needle between 
positive and negative electric poles, so attracted and re- 
pelled, that we vibrated too much to settle to any fixed 
condition. Vacillation prevented criticism, and we had to 
try the experiment again and again before we could arrive 
at the necessary equipose to indicate the right direction of 
taste and opinion. We will now, however, note our varia- 
tions, and leave them to the public judgment. 

The first lines of the prologue were repulsive, as a speci- 
men of the poorest Wordsworth manner and style — 

" Sir Walter Vivian all a summer's day 
Gave his broad lawns until the set of sun 
Up to his people : thither flock'd at noon 
His tenants, wife and child, and thither half 
The neighbouring borough with their Institute 
Of which he was the patron. I was there 
From college, visiting the son, — the son 
A Walter too, — with others of our set." 

The " wife and child " of the tenants is hardly intelli- 
gible ; and the " set " is but a dubious expression. Nor 
can we clearly comprehend the next line and a half — 

" And me that morrring Walter show'd the house, 
Greek, set with busts:" 

176 



TENNYSON'S THE PRINCESS I77 

Does this mean that Sir Walter Vivian inhabited a 
Greek house, and that the college " set " were guests in 
that dwelling " set with busts " ? To say the least, this is 
inelegant, and the affectations proceed — 

"From vases in the hall 
Flozi'crs of all heavens, and lovelier than their names, 
Grew side by side. 

Persons conversant with the botanical names of flowers 
will hardly be able to realize (as the Yankees have it) the 
idea of their loveliness ; the loveliness of Hippuris, Doli- 
chos, Syngenesia, Cheiranthus, Artocarpus, Arum dra- 
cunculus, Ampelopsis hederaca, Hexandria, Monogynea, 
and the rest. 

A good description of the demi-scientific sports of the 
Institute follows ; but the house company and inmates re- 
■ tire to a ruined abbey : — 

" High-arch'd and ivy-claspt, 
Of finest Gothic, lighter than a fire." 

This is a curious jumble in company, two lights of alto- 
gether a different nature ; but the party get into a rattling 
conversation, in which the noisy babble of the College 
Cubs is satirically characterized: we 

" Told 
Of college: he had climb 'd across the spikes, 
And he had squeez'd himself betwixt the bars, 
And he had breathed the Proctor's dogs ; and one 
Discuss'd his tutor, rough to common men 
But hone3'ing at the whisper of a lord ; 
And one the Master, as a rogue in grain 
Veneer'd with sanctimonious theory." 

The dialogue happily takes a turn, and the task of 
writing the Priiiccss is assigned to the author, as one of 
15 



178 THE LITERARY GAZETTE 

the tales in the Decameron of Boccaccio. A neighbouring^ 
princess of the south (so the story runs as the prince tells 
it) is in childhood betrothed to a like childish prince of 
the north : — 

" She to me 

Was proxy-wedded with a bootless calf [?] 

At eight years old." 

Both grew up, the prince, all imaginative, filling his 
mind with pictures of her perfections ; but she turning a 
female reformer of the Wolstencroft [sic] school, re- 
solved never to wed till woman was raised to an equality 
with men, and establishing a strange female colony and 
college to carry this vast design into effect. In conse- 
quence of this her father is obliged to violate the contract, 
and his indignant father prepares for war to enforce it. 
The prince, with two companions, flies to the south, to try 
what he can do for himself ; and in the disguise of ladies 
they obtain admission to the guarded precincts of the new 
Amazonian league. He, meanwhile, sings sweetly of his 
mistress — 

" And still I wore her picture by my heart, 
And one dark tress ; and all around them both 
Sweet thoughts would swarm as bees about their queen." 

And of his friend — 

" My other heart, 
My shadow, my half-self, for still we moved 
Together, kin as horse's ear and eye." 

His evasion is also finely told — 

" But when the council broke, I rose and past 
Through the wild woods that hang about the town; 
Found a still place, and pluck'd her likeness out: 
Laid it on flowers, and watch'd it lying bathed 



TENNYSON'S THE PRINCESS i79 

In the green gleam of dewy-tassell'd trees : 

What were those fancies ? wherefore break her troth ? 

Proud look'd the lips : but while I meditated 

A wind arose and rush'd upon the South, 

And shook the songs, the whispers, and the shrieks 

Of the wild woods together; and a Voice 

Went with it ' Follow, follow, thou shalt win !' " 

Almost in juxtaposition with these beauties, we find one 
of the disagreeable blots, so offensive to good taste, which 
disfigure the poem. The travellers are interrogating the 
host of an inn close to the liberties where the princess 
holds her petticoated sway : — 

"And at the last — 
The summer of the vine in all his veins — 
' No doubt that we might make it worth his while. 
For him, he reverenced his liege-lady there; 
He always made a point to post with mares; 
His daughter and his housemaid were the boys. 
The land, he understood, for miles about 
.Was till'd by women; all the swine were sows. 
And all the dogs ' " — 

This is too bad, even for medley ; but proceed we into 
the interior of the grand and luxurious feminine institu- 
tion, where their sex is speedily discovered, but for certain 
reasons concealed by the discoverers. Lectures on the 
past and what might be done to accomplish female 
equality, and description of the boundaries, the dwelling 
place, and the dwellers therein, fill many a page of mingled 
excellence and defects. Here is a sample of both in half a 
dozen lines : — 

" We saw 

The Lady Blanche's daughter where she stood, 

Melissa, with her hand upon the lock, 

A rosy blonde, and in a college gown 

That clad her like an April daffodilly 



I So THE LITERARY GAZETTE 

(Her mother's colour) with her Hps apart, 
And all her thoughts as fair within her eyes, 
As bottom agates seem to wave and float 
In crystal currents of clear morning seas." 

Curious contradictions in mere terms, also occasionally 
occur. Thus, of a frightened girl, we are told that — 

" Light 
As flies the shadozv of a bird she fled." 

Events move on. The prince reasons as a man in a 
colloquy with the princess, and speaks of the delights of 
maternal affections, and she replies — 

" We are not talk'd to thus : 
Yet will we say for children, would they grew 
Like field-flowers everywhere ! we like them well : 
But children die ; and let me tell you, girl, 
Howe'er you babble, great deeds cannot die : 
They with the sun and moon renew their light 
Forever, blessing those that look on them : 
Children — that men may pluck them from our hearts, 
Kill us with pity, break us with ourselves — 
O — children — there is nothing upon earth 
More miserable than she that has a son 
And sees him err:" 

A song on " The days that are no more," seems to us 
to be too laboured, nor is the other lyric introduced, " The 
Swallow," much more to our satisfaction. It is a mixture 
of prettinesses : the first four triplets run thus, ending in 
a poetic beauty — 

"O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South, 
Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves. 
And tell her, tell her what I tell to thee. 



TENNYSON'S THE PRINCESS i8i 

" O tell her, Swallow, thou that knowest each, 
That bright and fierce and fickle is the South, 
And dark and true and tender is the North. 

"O Swallow, Swallow, if I could follow, and light 
Upon her lattice, I would pipe and trill, 
And chec[> and tivittcr tzvciity million loves. 

" O were I thou that she might take me in, 
And lay me on her bosom, and her heart 
Would rock the snozvy cradle till I died." 

The prince saves the princess from being drowned, 
when the secret explodes Hke a roll of gun cotton, and a 
grand turmoil ensties. The rival kings approach to con- 
fines in battle array, and the princess resumes the declara- 
tion of war : — 

" A tide of fierce 
Invective seem'd to wait behind her lips, 
As waits a river level with the dam 
Ready to burst and flood the world with foam: 
And so she would have spoken, but there rose 
A hubbub in the court of half the maids 
Gather'd together; from the illumin'd hall 
Long lanes of splendour slanted o'er a press 
Of snowy shoulders, thick as herded ewes, 
And rainbow robes, and gems and gemlike eyes. 
And gold and golden heads ; they to and fro 
Fluctuated, as flowers in storm, some red, same pale, 
All open-mouth'd, all gazing to the light, 
Some crying there was an army in the land. 
And some that men w^ere in the very walls. 
And some they cared not ; till a clamour grew 
As of a new-world Babel, woman-built, 
And worse-confounded : high above them stood 
The placid marble Muses, looking peace." 

She denounces the perils outside and in — 



1 82 THE LITERARY GAZETTE 

" I dare 
All these male thunderbolts: what is it ye fear? 
Peace ! there are those to avenge us and they come : 
If not, — myself were like enough, O girls, 
To unfurl the maiden banner of our rights. 
And clad in iron burst the ranks of war, 
Or, falling, protomartyr of our cause. 
Die : yet I blame ye not so much for fear ; 
Six thousand years of fear have made ye that 
From which I would redeem ye: but for those 
That stir this hubbub — you and you — I know 
Your faces there in the crowd — to-morrow morn 
We meet to elect new tutors ; then shall they 
That love their voices more than duty, learn 
With whom they deal, dismiss'd in shame to live 
No wiser than their mothers, household stuff, 
Live chattels, mincers of each other's fame, 
Full of weak poison, turnspits for the clown, 
The drunkard's football, laughing-stocks of Time, 
Whose brains are in their hands and in their heels. 
But fit to flaunt, to dress, to dance, to thrum. 
To tramp, to scream, to burnish, and to scour 
For ever slaves at home and fools abroad." 

Ay, just as Shakspere hath it — 

" To suckle fools and chronicle small beer." 

The hero also meets the shock, at least in poetic grace : — 

" Upon my spirits 
Settled a gentle cloud of melancholy. 
Which I shook off, for I was young, and one 
To whom the shadow of all mischance but came 
As night to him that sitting on a hill 
Sees the midsummer, midnight, Norway sun. 
Set into sunrise." 

It is agreed to decide the contest by a combat of fifty 
on each side — the one led by the prince, and the other by 



TENNYSON'S THE PRINCESS 183 

Arac, the brother of the princess. And clad in " har- 
ness " — 

" Issued in the sun that now 

Leapt from the dewy shoulders of the Earth, 

And hit the northern hills." 

To the fight — 

" Then rode we with the old king across the lawns 
Beneath huge trees, a thousand rings of Spring 
In every bole, a song on every spray 
Of birds that piped their Valentines." 

The prince and his companions are defeated ; and he, 
wounded almost to the death, is consigned at her own re- 
quest to be nursed by the princess : — 

" So was their sanctuary violated. 
So their fair college turn'd to hospital; 
At first with all confusion; by and by 
Sweet order lived again with other laws ; 
A kindlier influence reign'd ; and everywhere 
Low voices with the ministering hand 
Hung round the sick." 

The result may be foreseen — 

" From all a closer interest flourish'd up. 
Tenderness touch by touch, and last, to these. 
Love, like an Alpine harebell hung with tears 
By some cold morning glacier; frail at first 
And feeble, all unconscious of itself, 
But such as gather'd colour day by day." 

And the agreement is filled up : — 

" Dear, but let us type them now 
In our lives, and this proud watchword rest 
Of equal; seeing either sex alone 
Is half itself, and in true marriage lies 



1 84 THE LITERARY GAZETTE 

Nor equal, nor unequal : each fulfils 

Defect in each, and always thought in thought, 

Purpose in purpose, will in will, they grow. 

The single pure and perfect animal, 

The two-cell'd heart beating with one full stroke 

Life " 

" O we will walk this world, 
Yoked in all exercise of noble end. 
And so through those dark gates across the wild 
That no man knows. Indeed I love thee ; come. 
Yield thyself up; my hopes and thine are one; 
Accomplish thou my manhood and thyself 
Lay thy sweet hands in mine and trust to me." 

Who will question the true poetry of this production, 
or who will deny the imperfections, (mostly of affectation, 
though some of tastelessness) which obscure it? Who 
will wonder at our confessed wavering when they have 
read this course of alternate power, occasionally extrava- 
gant, and feebleness as in the long account of the emeutef 
Of the extravagant, the description of the princess, on re- 
ceiving the declaration of war, is an example : — 

" She read, till over brow 
And cheek and bosom brake the wrathful bloom 
As of some fire against a stormy cloud. 
When the wild peasant rights himself, and the rick 
Flames, and his anger reddens in the heavens." 

The heroine, it must be acknowledged, is much of the 
virago throughout, and the prince rather of the softest; 
but the tale could not be otherwise told. We add four 
examples — two to be admired, and two to be contemned, 
in the fulfilment of our critique. 

" For was, and is, and will be, are but is," 

is a noble line ; and the following, on the promised re- 
storation of a child to its mother, is very touching — 



TENNYSON'S THE PRINCESS 185 

" Again she veiled her brows, and prone she sank, and so 
Like tender things that being caught feign death. 
Spoke not, nor stirr'd." 

Not SO the burlesque eight daughters of the plough, the 
brawny ministers of the princess' executive, and their 
usage of a herald. They were — 

" Eight daughters of the plough, stronger than men. 
Huge women blowzed with health, and wind, and rain 
And labour. Each was like a Druid rock; 
Or like a spire of land that stands apart 
Cleft from the main, and clang'd about with mews." 

And they — 

" Came sallying through the gates, and caught his hair, 
And so belabour'd him on rib and cheek 
They made him wild." 

Nor the following — 

" When the man wants weight the woman takes it up, 
And topples down the scales ; but this is fixt 
As are the roots of earth and base of all. 
Man for the field and woman for the hearth ; 
Man for the sword and for the needle she; 
Man with the head and woman with the heart; 
Man to command and woman to obey; 
All else confusion. Look to it; the gray mare 
Is ill to live with, when her whinny shrills 
From tile to scullery, and her small goodman 
Shrinks in his arm-chair while the fires of Hell 
Mix with his hearth ; but take and break her, you ! 
She's yet a colt. Well groom'd and strongly curb'd 
She might not rank with those detestable 
That to the hireling leave their babe, and brawl 
Their rights or wrongs like potherbs in the street. 
They say she's comely ; there's the fairer chance : 



i86 THE LITERARY GAZETTE 

/ like her none the less for rating at her! 
Besides, the woman wed is not as we, 
But suffers change of frame. A lusty brace 
Of twins may weed her of her folly. Boy, 
The bearing and the training of a child 
Is woman's wisdom." 

— The Literary Gazette. 



Robert Browning 

Paracelsus. By Robert Browning 

There is talent in this dramatic poem, (in which is at- 
tempted a picture of the mind of this celebrated charac- 
ter,) but it is dreamy and obscure. Writers would do 
well to remember, (by way of example,) that though it 
is not difficult to imitate the mysticism and vagueness of 
Shelley, we love him and have taken him to our hearts as 
a poet, not because of these characteristics — but in spite 
of them. — The Athenceum. 



187 



Sordello. By Robert Browning. London : jMoxon. 
1840. 

The scene of this poem is laid in Italy, when the 
Ghibelline and Guelph factions were in hottest contest. 
The author's style is rather peculiar, there being affecta- 
tions of language and invertions of thought, and other 
causes of obscurity in .the course of the story which de- 
tract from the pleasure of perusing it. But after all, we 
are much mistaken if Mr. Browning does not prove him- 
self a poet of a right stamp, — original, vigorous, and 
finely inspired. He appears to us to possess a true sense 
of the dignity and sacredness of the poet's kingdom ; and 
his imagination wings its way with a boldness, freedom 
and scope, as if he felt himself at home in that sphere, and 
was resolved to put his allegiance to the test. — The 
Monthly Review. 



1S8 



Men and Women. By Robert Browning. Two Volumes. 
Chapman and Hall. 

It is really high time that this sort of thing should, if 
possible, be stopped. Here is another book of madness 
and mysticism — another melancholy specimen of power 
wantonly wasted, and talent deliberately perverted — 
another act of self-prostration before that demon of bad 
taste who now seems to hold in absolute possession the 
fashionable masters of our ideal literature. It is a strong 
case for the correctional justice of criticism, which has 
too long abdicated its proper functions. The Delia Crusca 
of Sentimentalism perished under the Baviad — is there 
to be no future Gificord for the Delia Crusca of Trans- 
cendentalism ? The thing has really grown to a lamentable 
head amongst us. The contagion has aflfected not only 
our sciolists and our versifiers, but those whom, in the 
absence of a mightier race, we must be content to accept 
as the poets of our age. Here is Robert Browning, for 
instance — no one can doubt that he is capable of better 
things — no one, while deploring the obscurities that deface 
the Paracelsus and the Dramatic Lyrics, can deny the less 
questionable qualities which characterized those remark- 
able poems — but can any of his devotees be found to 
uphold his present elaborate experiment on the patience 
of the public? Take any of his worshippers you please — 
let him be " well up " in the transcendental poets of the 
day — take him fresh from Alexander Smith, or Alfred 
Tennyson's Maud, or the Mystic of Bailey — and we will 
engage to find him at least ten passages in the first ten 
pages of Men and Women, some of which, even after pro- 
found study, he will not be able to construe at all, and 

189 



19° THE SATURDAY REVIEW 

not one of which he will be able to read off at sight. Let 
us take one or two selections at random from the first 
volume, and try. What, for instance, is the meaning of 
these four stanzas from the poem entitled " By the Fire- 
side " ?— 

My perfect wife, my Leonor, 

Oh, heart my own, oh, eyes, mine too, 
Whom else could I dare look backward for. 

With whom beside should I dare pursue 
The path grey heads abhor? 

For it leads to a crag's sheer edge with them; 

Youth, flowery all the way, there stops — 
Not they; age threatens and they contemn, 

Till they reach the gulf wherein youth drops, 
One inch from our life's safe hem! 

With me, youth led — I will speak now, 

No longer watch you as you sit 
Reading by fire-light, that great brow 

And the spirit-small hand propping it 
Mutely — my heart knows how — 

When, if I think but deep enough. 

You are wont to answer, prompt as rhyme ; 

And you, too, find without a rebuff 

The response your soul seeks many a time 

Piercing its fine flesh-stufif— 

We really should think highly of the powers of any 
interpreter who could " pierce " the obscurity of such 
" stuff' " as this. One extract more and we have done. 
A gold medal in the department of Hermeneutical Science 
to the ingenious individual, who, after any length of study, 
can succeed in unriddling this tremendous passage from 
" Master Hugues of Saxe-Gotha," the organist : — 



BROWNING'S MEN AND WOMEN 191 

First you deliver your plirase 

— Nothing propound, that I see, 
Fit in itself for much blame or much praise — 

Answered no less, where no answer needs be: 
Off start the Two on their ways ! 

Straight must a Third interpose, 

Volunteer needlessly help — 
In strikes a Fourth, a Fifth thrusts in his nose, 

So the cry's open, the kennel's a-yelp. 
Argument's hot to the close ! 

One disertates, he is candid — 

Two must dicept, — has distinguished ! 
Three helps the couple, if ever yet man did : 

Four protests. Five makes a dart at the thing wished — 
Back to One, goes the case bandied ! 

One says his say with a difference — 

More of expounding, explaining ! 
All now is wrangle, abuse, and vociferance — 

Now there's a truce, all's subdued, self-restraining — 
Five, though, stands out all the stiffer hence. 

One is incisive, corrosive — 

Two retorts, nettled, curt, crepitant — 
Three makes rejoinder, expansive, explosive — 

Four overbears them all, strident and strepitant — 
Five . . . O Danaides, O Sieve ! 

Now, they ply axes and crowbars — 

Now they prick pins at a tissue 
Fine as a skein of the casuist Escobar's 

Worked on the bone of a lie. To what issue? 
Where is our gain at the Two-bars? 

Est ftiga. volvitttr rota! 

On we drift. Where looms the dim port? 
One, Two, Three, Four, Five, contribute their quota — 

Something is gained, if one caught but the import — 
Show it us, Hugues of Saxe-Gotha ! 



192 THE SATURDAY REVIEW 

What [with] affirming, denying, 

Jlolding, risposting, subjoining. 
All's like . . . it's like . . . for an instance I'm trying . , . 

There ! See our roof, its gilt moulding and groining 
Under those spider-webs lying?- 

So your fugue broadens and thickens, 

Greatens and deepens and lengthens, 
Till one exclaims — "But where's music, the dickens? 

Blot ye the gold, while your spider-web strengthens, 
Blacked to the stoutest of tickens?" 

Do our readers exclaim, " But where's poetry — the 
dickens — in all this rigmarole?" We confess we can find 
none — we can find nothing but a set purpose to be obscure, 
and an idiot captivity to the jingle of Hudibrastic rhyme. 
This idle weakness really appears to be at the bottom of 
half the daring nonsense in this most daringly nonsensical 
book. Hudibras Butler told us long ago that " rhyme 
the rudder is of verses ;" and when, as in his case, or in 
that of Ingoldsby Barham, or Whims-and- Oddities Hood, 
the rudder guides the good ship into tracks of fun and 
fancy she might otherwise have missed, we are grateful 
to the double-endings, not on their own account, but for 
what they have led us to. But Mr. Browning is the mere 
thrall of his own rudder, and is constantly being steered 
by it into whirlpools of the most raging absurdity. This 
morbid passion for double rhymes, which is observable 
more or less throughout the book, reaches its climax in a 
long copy of verses on the " Old Pictures of Florence," 
which, with every disposition to be tolerant of the frailties 
'of genius, we cannot hesitate to pronounce a masterpiece 
of absurdity. Let the lovers of the Hudibrastic admire 
these to^irs dc force: — 



BROWNING'S MEN AND WOMEN i93 

Not that I expect the great Bigordi 

Nor Sandro to hear me, chivalric, bellicose; 
Nor wronged Lippino — and not a word I 

Say of a scrap of Fra Angel ico's. 
But you are too fine, Taddeo Gaddi, 

So grant me a taste of your intonaco — 
Some Jerome that seeks the heaven with a sad eye? 

No churlish saint, Lorenzo IMonaco? 
******* 

Margheritone of Arezzo, 

With the grave-clothes garb and swaddling barret, 
(Why purse up mouth and beak in a pet so, 

You bald, saturnine, poll-clawed parrot?) 
No poor glimmering Crucifixion, 

Where in the foreground kneels the donor? 
If such remain, as is my conviction. 

The hoarding does you but little honour. 

The concltision of this poem rises to a climax : — 

How shall we prologuise, how shall we perorate. 

Say fit things upon art and history — 
Set truth at blood-heat and the false at zero rate. 

Make of the want of the age no mystery ! 
Contrast the fructuous and sterile eras. 

Show, monarchy its uncouth cub licks 
Out of the bear's shape to the chimsera's — 

Pure Art's birth being still the republic's ! 

Then one shall propose (in a speech, curt Tuscan, 

Sober, expurgate, spare of an " issimo,") 
Ending our half-told tale of Cambuscan, 

Turning the Bell-tower's altaltissimo. 
And fine as the beak of a young beccaccia 

The Campanile, the Duomo's fit ally. 
Soars up in gold its full fifty braccia, 

Completing Florence, as Florence, Italy. 

How really deplorable is all this ! On what theory of 
art can it possibly be defended? In all the fine arts alike 
i6 



194 THE SATURDAY REVIEW 

— poetry, painting, sculpture, music — the master works 
have this in common, that they please in the highest degree 
the most cultivated, and to the widest extent the less culti- 
vated. Lear and the Divine Comedy exhaust the thinking 
of the profoundest student, yet subdue to hushed and 
breathless attention the illiterate minds that know not 
what study means. The " Last Judgment," the " Trans- 
figuration," the " Niobe," and the " Dying Gladiator " ex- 
cite alike the intelligent rapture of artists, and the unin- 
telligent admiration of those to whom art and its principles 
are a sealed book. Handel's Israel in Egypt — the wonder 
of the scientific musician in his closet — yet sways to and 
fro, like a mighty wind upon the waters, the hearts of 
assembled thousands at an Exeter Hall oratorio. To take 
an instance more striking still, Beethoven, the sublime, 
the rugged, the austere, is also, as even Mons. Jullien 
could tell us, fast becoming a popular favourite. Now 
why is this? Simply because these master minds, under 
the divine teaching of genius, have known how to clothe 
their works in a beauty of form incorporate with their 
very essence — a beauty of form which has an elective 
affinity with the highest instincts of universal humanity. 
And it is on this beauty of form, this exquisite perfection 
of style, that the Baileys and the Brownings would have 
us believe that they set small account, that they pur- 
posely and scornfully trample. We do not believe it. 
We believe that it is only because they are half-gifted that 
they are but half-intelligible. Their mysticism is weak- 
ness — weakness writhing itself into contortions that it 
may ape the muscles of strength. Artistic genius, in its 
higher degrees, necessarily involves the power of beautiful 
self-expression. It is but a weak and watery sun that 
allows the fogs to hang heavy between the objects on 
which it shines and the eyes it would enlighten ; the true 



BROWNING'S MEN AND WOMEN 195 

day-star chases the mists at once, and shows us the world 
at a glance. 

Our main object has been to protest against what we 
feel to be the false teachings of a perverted school of art ; 
and we have used this lx)ok of Mr. Browning's chiefly as 
a means of showing the extravagant lengths of absurdity 
to which the tenets of that school can lead a man of ad- 
mitted powers. We should regret, however in the pur- 
suit of this object to inflict injustice on Mr. Browning. 
This last book of his, like most of its predecessors, con- 
tains some undeniable beauties — subtle thoughts, graceful 
fancies, and occasionally a strain of music, which only 
makes the chaos of surrounding discords jar more harshly 
on the ear. The dramatic scenes " In a Balcony " are 
finely conceived and vigorously written ; " Bishop Bloug- 
ram's Apology," and " Cleon," are well w^orth reading 
and thinking over ; and there is a certain grace and beauty 
in several of the minor poems. That which, on the whole, 
has pleased us most — really, perhaps, because we could 
read it oflf-hand — is " The Statue and the Bust," of which 
vre give the opening stanzas : — 

[Quotes fourteen stanzas of The Statue and the Bnst.'\ 

\\\\\ should a man, who. with so little apparent labour, 
can write naturally and well, take so much apparent laliour 
to write affectedly and ill ? There can be but one of two 
solutions. Either he goes wrong from want of knowl- 
edge, in which case it is clear that he wants the highest 
intuitions of genius ; or he sins against knowledge, in 
which case he must have been misled by the false prompt- 
ings of a morbid vanity, eager for that applause of fools 
which always waits on quackery, and which is never re- 
fused to extravagance when tricked out in the guise of 
orisfinalitv. It is difficult, from the internal evidence 



196 THE SATURDAY REVIEW 

supplied by his works, to know which of these two theories 
to adopt. Frequently the conclusion is almost irresistible, 
that Mr. Browning's mysticism must be of malice pre- 
pense: on the whole, however, we are inclined to clear his 
honesty at the expense of his powers, and to conclude that 
he is obscure, not so much because he has the vanity to 
be thought original, as because he lacks sufficient genius 
to make himself clear. — The Saturday Review. 



NOTES 

Thomas Gray 

When Gray's Elegy Written in a Country Church-Yard ap- 
peared in 1751, the Monthly Rev., IV, p. 309, gave it the following 
curious notice:— "The excellence of this little piece amply com- 
pensates for its want of quantity." The immediate success and 
popularity of the Elegy established Gray's poetical reputation; 
hence his Odes (1757) were received and criticized as the work 
of a poet of whom something entirely different was expected. 
The thin quarto volume containing The Progress of Poesy and 
The Bard (entitled merely Ode I and Ode II in that edition) was 
printed for Dodsley by Horace Walpole at Strawberry Hill, and 
was published on August 8, 1757. Within a fortnight Gray wrote 
to Thomas Warton that the poems were not at all popular, the 
great objection being their obscurity; a week later he wrote to 
Hurd :— •' Even my friends tell me they [the Odes] do not suc- 
ceed ... in short, I have heard nobody but a player [Garrick] 
and a doctor of divinity [Warburton] that profess their esteem 
for them." For further comment, see Gray's Works, ed. Gosse, II, 
pp. 321-328. 

Our review, w^hich is reprinted from Monthly Rev., XVII (239- 
243) (September, 1757), was written by Oliver Goldsmith, and is 
included in most of the collected editions of his works. Al- 
though it was practically wrung from Goldsmith while he was the 
unwilling thrall of Griffiths, it is a noteworthy piece of criticism 
for its time — certainly far superior to the general standard of the 
Monthly Reviezi.'. While recognizing the scholarly merit of the 
poet's work. Goldsmith showed clearly w-hy the Odes could not 
become popular. A more favorable notice of the volume appeared 
in the Critical Rev., IV, p. 167. 

In reprinting this review, the long quotations from both odes 
have been omitted. This precedent is followed in all cases where 
the quotations are of inordinate length, or are offered merely as 
" specimens " without specific criticism. No useful end would be 
served in reprinting numerous pages of classic extracts that are 

197 



198 NOTES 

readily accessible to every student. All omissions are, of course, 
properly indicated. 

1. Quinaiilt. Philippe Quinaiilt (1635-1688), a popular French 

dramatist and librettist. 

2. Mark'd for her ozvu. An allusion to the line in the Epitaph 

appended to the Elegy: "And Melancholy marked him for 
her own.'' 

Oliver Goldsmith 

Goldsmith's Traveller (1764) was begun as early as 1755— be- 
fore he had expressed what Professor Dowden calls his " qualified 
enthusiasm " and " official admiration " for Gray's Odes. In 
criticizing Gray, he quoted Isocrates' advice — Study the people — 
and properly bore that precept in mind while he was shaping his 
own verses. The Odes and the Traveller are respectively charac- 
teristic utterances of their authors — of the academic recluse, and 
of the warm-hearted lover of humanity. 

The review, quoted from the Critical Rev., XVIII (458-462) 
(December, 1764), is from the pen of Dr. Samuel Johnson. Apart 
from its distinguished authorship and the strong words of com- 
mendation in the final sentence, it possesses slight interest as 
literary criticism. It is, in fact, little more than a brief summary 
of the poem, enriched by a few well-chosen illustrative extracts. 
The fact that Johnson contributed nine or ten lines to the poem 
(see Boswell, ed. Hill, I, p. 441, n. i, and II, p. 6) may account 
partly for the character of the review. Johnson's quotations from 
the poem are not continuous and show several variations from 
authoritative texts. 

William Cowper 

Cowper stands almost alone among English poets as an instance 
of late manifestation of poetic power. He was over fifty years 
of age when he off'ered his first volume of Poems (1782). to the 
public. This collection, which included Table-Talk and other 
didactic poems, appeared at the beginning of the most prosaic age 
in the history of modern English literature; yet the critics did 
not find it sufficiently striking in quality to differentiate it from 
the level of contemporary verse, or to forecast the success of 
The Task and John Gilpin's Ride three years later. 

The notice in the Critical Rev., LIII (287-290), appeared in 
April, 1782. While the same poems are but slightly esteemed 



NOTES 199 

to-day, it must be recognized that tlic attitude of the reviewer was 
severe for his time. The age had grown accustomed to large 
draughts of moralizing and didacticism in verse, and the quality of 
Cowper's contribution was assuredly above the average. The 
Monthly Rev., LXVII, p. 262, gave the Poems a much more favor- 
able reception. 

10. Non Dii, iion homines, etc. Properlj', nan homines, nan di, 

Horace, Ars Poetica, 1. Z72>- 
ID. Caraccioli. Jouissance de soi-mane (ed. 1762), cap. xii. 

11. There needs no ghost, etc. See Hamlet, I, 5. no. 

Robert Burns 

The Kilmarnock edition (1786) of Burns' Poems was published 
during the most eventful period of the poet's life ; the almost uni- 
versally kind reception accorded to this volume was the one 
source of consolation amid many sorrows and distractions. Two 
reviews have been selected to illustrate both the Scottish and 
English attitude toward the newly discovered " ploughman-poet." 
The Edinburgh Magazine, IV (284-288), in October, 1786, gave 
Burns a welcome that was hearty and sincere; though we may 
smile to-day at the information that he has neither the " doric 
simplicity" of Ramsay, nor the "brilliant imagination" of 
Ferguson. Besides the poems mentioned in brackets, the maga- 
zine published further extracts from Bums in subsequent num- 
bers. The Critical Reviezv, LXIII (387-388), gave the volume a 
belated notice in May, 1787, exceeding even the Scotch magazine 
in its generous appreciation. With the generally accepted fact 
in mind that all of Burns' enduring work is in the Scottish 
dialect, and that his English poems are comparatively inferior, 
it is interesting to note the Critical Review's regret that the dialect 
must " obscure the native beauties " and be often unintelligible to 
English readers. The same sentiment was expressed by the 
Monthly Reviezv, LXXV, p. 439, in the critique reprinted (without 
its curious anglified version of The Cotter's Saturday Night) in 
Stevenson's Early Reviews. 

There is perhaps no other English poet whose fame was so sud- 
denly and securely established as Burns'. At no time since the 
appearance of the Kilmarnock volume has the worth of his lyrical 
achievement been seriously questioned. The Reliqiics of Burns, 
edited by Dr. Cromek in 1808, were reviewed by Walter Scott in 



200 NOTES 

the first number of the Quarterly Reviezu, and by Jeffrey in the 
corresponding number of the Edinburgh. Both articles are vah:- 
able to the student of Burns, but their great length made their 
inclusion in the present volume impracticable. 

14. Rusticus abnormis sapiens, etc. Horace, Sat. II, 1. 3. 

15. A great lady . . . and celebrated professor. Evidently Mrs. 

Dunlop and Professor Dugald Stewart, who both took great 
interest in Burns after the appearance of the Kilmarnock 
volume. 

William Wordsworth 

The thin quartos containing An Evening Walk and Descriptive 
Sketches were published by Wordsworth in 1793. The former 
was practically a school-composition in verse, written between 
1787-89 and dedicated to his sister; the latter was composed in 
France during 1791-92 and was revised shortly before publication. 
The dedication was addressed to the Rev. Robert Jones, fellow 
of St. John's College, Cambridge, who was Wordsworth's com- 
panion during the pedestrian tour in the Alps. Though An 
Evening Walk was published first, the Montlily Reviezv, XII, n. s. 
(216-218), in October, 1793, noticed both in the same issue and 
naturally gave precedence to the longer poem. Specific allusions 
in the text necessitate the same order in the present reprint. 

The impatience of the reviewer at the prospect of " more de- 
scriptive poetry " was due to the fact that many such productions 
had recently been noticed by the Monthly, and that the volumes 
then under consideration evidently belonged to the broad stream 
of mediocre verse that had been flowing soberly along almost 
since the days of Thomson. These first attempts smacked so 
decidedly of the older manner that we cannot censure the critic 
for failing to foresee that Wordsworth was destined to glorify 
the " poetry of nature," and to rescue it from the rut of listless 
and soporific topographical description. Both poems, in the defini- 
tive text, are readable, and exhibit here and there a glimmer of 
the poet's future greatness ; yet it must be borne in mind that 
Wordsworth was continually tinkering at his verse, to the subse- 
quent despair of conscientious variorum editors, and that most 
of the absurdities and infelicities in his first editions disappeared 
under the correcting influence of his sarcastic critics and his own 
maturing taste. 



NOTES 20 1 

A collation of the accepted text with the Monthly Revicxv's quo- 
tations w ill repay the student ; thus, the twelve opening lines 
quoted by the reviewer are represented by eight lines in Professor 
Knight's edition, and only four of these correspond to the original 
text. The reviewer confined his remarks to the first thirty lines 
of the poem and very properly neglected the rest. He followed, 
with moderate success, the method of quotation with interpolated 
sarcasm and badinage — a method that was afterwards effectively 
pursued by the early Edinburgh Reviewers and the Blackwood 
coterie. There are few examples of that style in the eighteenth 
century reviews, but some noteworthy specimens of a later period 
— e. g., the Edinburgh Review on Coleridge's Christabel and the 
Quarterly on Tennyson's Poems — are reprinted in this volume. 

The review of An Evening Walk is simply an appended para- 
graph to the previous article. Wordsworth evidently appreciated 
the advice conveyed in the reviewer's final sentence and found 
many of the lines that " called loudly for amendment." More 
favorable notices of both poems will be found in Critical Review, 
VIII, pp. 347 and 472. 

Lyrical Ballads 

The Lyrical Ballads by Wordsworth and Coleridge were pub- 
lished anonymously early in September, 1798 — a few days before 
the joint authors sailed for Germany. Coleridge's contributions 
were The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, The Foster-Mother's 
Tale, The Nightingale, and The Dungeon; the remaining nineteen 
poems were by Wordsworth. As the publication of this volume 
has been accepted by most critics as the first fruit of the new 
romantic spirit and the virtual beginning of modern English 
poetry, the reception accorded to the Lyrical Ballads becomes a 
matter of prime importance. It is well known that the effort was 
a failure at first and that the apparent triumph of romanticism 
did not occur until the publication of Scott's Lay of the Last 
Minstrel (1805) ; but a contemporary blindness to the beauty of 
two of the finest poems in English literature cannot be permitted 
to figure in the critics' dispassionate investigation of causes and 
influences. 

There were four interesting reviews of the first edition of the 
Lyrical Ballads, namely, (i) Critical Rev., XXIV, n. s. (197- 
204), in October, 1798, which is reprinted here; (2) Analytical 



202 NOTES 

Rev., XXVIII .(583-5S7), in December, 1798; (3) Monthly Rev., 
XXIX, n. s. (202-210), in May, 1799, reprinted in Stevenson's 
Early Reviews; (4) British Critic, XIV (364-369) in October, 
1799. 

The article in the Critical Reviezu was written by Robert 
Southey under conditions most favorable for such a malicious 
procedure. The publisher, his friend Cottle, had transferred 
the copyright of the Lyrical Ballads to Arch, a London publisher, 
within two weeks of the appearance of the volume, giving as a 
shallow excuse the " heavy sale " of the book. Both Wordsworth 
and Coleridge were in Germany. Southey had quarreled with 
Coleridge, and was probably jealous of the latter's extravagant 
praise of Wordsworth. He accordingly seized the opportunity 
to assail the work without injuring Cottle's interests or entailing 
the immediate displeasure of the travelling bards. 

He covered his tracks to some extent by referring several times 
to "the author," although the joint authorship was well known 
to him. While severe in most of his strictures on Wordsworth, 
Southey reserved his special malice for The Ancient Mariner. 
He called it " a Dutch attempt at German sublimity " ; and in a 
letter written to William Taylor on September 5, 1798 — probably 
while he was writing his discreditable critique — he characterized 
the poem as " the clumsiest attempt at German sublimity I ever 
saw." Southey's responsibility for the article became known to 
Cottle, who communicated the fact to the poets on their return 
a year later. Wordsworth declared that " if Southey could not 
conscientiously have spoken differently of the volume, he ought 
to have declined the task of reviewing it." Coleridge indited an 
epigram. To a Critic, and let the matter drop. Shortly afterwards 
he showed his renewed good-will by aiding Southey in preparing 
the second Annual Anthology (1800). 

The subsequent reviews of the Lyrical Ballads adopted the tone 
of the Critical (then recognized as the leading review) and in- 
ternal evidence shows that they did not hesitate to borrow ideas 
from Southey's article. The Analytical Review also saw German 
extravagances in The Ancient Mariner; the Monthly borrowed 
Southey's figure of the Italian and Flemish painters, and called 
The Ancient Mariner " the strangest story of a cock and bull 
that we ever saw on paper ... a rhapsody of unintelligible wild- 
ness and incoherence." The belated review in the British Critic 



NOTES 203 

was probably written by Coleridge's friend, Rev. Francis Wrang 
ham, and was somewhat more appreciative than the rest. For 
further details, consult Mr. Thomas Hutchinson's reprint (1898) 
of the Lyrical Ballads, pp. (xiii-xxviii). Despite the unfavorable 
reviews, the Ballads reached a fourth edition in 1805 (besides an 
American edition in 1802), thus achieving the popularity alluded 
to by Jeffrey at the beginning of our next review. 

Poems (1S07) 

Wordsworth's fourth publication, the Poems (1807), included 
most of the pieces written after the first appearance of the 
Lyrical Ballads. It was likewise his first venture subsequent to 
the founding of the Edinburgh Rcviexv. Jeffrey had assailed the 
theories of the "Lake Poets" (and, incidentally, coined that 
unfortunate term) in the first number of the Reviezv, in an article 
on Southey's Thalaba, and three years later (1805), in criticizing 
Madoc, he again expressed his views on the subject. Now came 
the first opportunity to deal with the recognized leader of the 
" Lakers " — the poet whose work most clearly illustrated the poetic 
theories that Jeffrey deemed pernicious. 

The article here reprinted from the Edinburgh Rev., XI (214- 
231), of October, 1807, and Jeffrey's review of The Excursion, in 
ibid., XXIV (1-30), are perhaps the two most important critiques 
of their kind. No student of Wordsworth's theory of poetry, as 
set forth in his various prefaces, can afford to ignore either of 
these interesting discussions of the subject. (For details, see A. 
J. George's edition of the Prefaces of Wordsworth, Gates' Selec- 
tions from Jeffrey, Beers' Nineteenth Century Romanticism, 
Hutchinson's edition of Lyrical Ballads, etc.) It was undoubtedly 
true that Jeffrey, although an able critic, failed to grasp the real 
significance of the new poetic movement, and to appreciate the 
influence wTought by the doctrines of the Lake Poets on modern 
conceptions of poetry. Yet he was far from wrong in many of his 
criticisms of Wordsworth. While deprecating the latter's 
theories, it is clear that Jeffrey regarded him as a poet of great 
power who was being led astray by his perverse practice. The 
popular conception of Jeffrey as a hectoring and blatant opponent 
of Wordsworth is not substantiated by the review. The impartial 
reader must agree with Jeffrey at many points, and if he will take 
the trouble to collate Jeffrey's quotations with the revised text 



204 NOTES 

of Wordsworth, he will learn that the poet did not disdain to take 
an occasional suggestion for the improvement of his verse. 

We recognize Wordsworth to-day as the most unequal of 
English poets. There is little that is common to the inspired 
bard of Tin tern Abbey, the Immortality Ode and the nobler 
Satinets, and the unsophisticated scribe of Peter Bell and 
The Idiot Boy. Like Browning, he wrote too much to write well 
at all times, and if both poets were capable of the sublimest flights, 
they likewise descended to unimagined depths; but the fault of 
Wordsworth was perhaps the greater, because his bathos was the 
result of a deliberate and persistent attempt to enrich English 
poetry with prosaically versified incidents drawn at length from 
homely rural life. 

Samuel Taylor Coleridge 

The first part of Coleridge's CJiristabel was written in 1797 dur- 
ing the brief period of inspiration that also gave us The Ancient 
Mariner and Kubla Khan — in short, that small group of ex- 
quisite poems which in themselves suffice to place Coleridge in the 
front rank of English poets. The second part was written in 
1800, after the author's return from Germany. The fragment 
circulated widely in manuscript among literary men, bewitched 
Scott and Byron into imitating its fascinating rhythms, and, at 
Byron's suggestion, was finally published by Murray in 1816 with 
Kubla Khan and The Pains of Sleep. It is probable that the high 
esteem in which these poems were held by Coleridge's literary 
friends led him to expect a favorable reception at the hands of 
the critics ; hence his keen disappointment at the general tone of 
their sarcastic analysis and their protests against the absurdity 
and obscurity of the poems. The principal critiques on Christabel 
were: — (i) Edinburgh Rev., XXVII (58-67), which is here re- 
printed; (2) Monthly Rev., LXXXII, n. s. (22-25), reprinted in 
Stevenson's Early Reviews; (3) The Literary Panorama, IV, n. s. 
(561-565) ; and (4) Anti-Jacobin Rev.. L (632-636). 

It is evident that Coleridge was eminently successful in the 
gentle art of making enemies. We have seen that Southey's 
attack on the Lyrical Ballads was a direct result of his ill-will 
toward Coleridge; the outrageous article in the Edinburgh Re- 
view was written by William Hazlitt under similar inspiration, 
and was followed by abusive papers in The Examiner (1816, p. 



NOTES 205 

743, and 1817, p. 236). There was no justification for Hazlitt, 
and none has been attempted by his biographers. Judged by its 
intrinsic merits, the Edinburgh article is one of the most absurd 
reviews ever written by a critic of recognized ability. Hazlitt 
followed the method of outlining the story by quotation with in- 
terspersed sarcasm and ironical criticism. As a coarse boor 
might crumple a delicate and beautifully wrought fabric to prove 
that it has not the wearing qualities of a blacksmith's apron, 
Hazlitt seized upon the ethereal story of Christabel, with its 
wealth of mediaeval and romantic imagery, and held up to ridicule 
the incidents that did not conform to modern English conceptions 
of life. It requires no great art to produce such a critique; the 
same method was applied to Christabel with hardly less success 
by the anonymous hack of the Anti-Jacobin. Whatever may have 
been Hazlitt's motives, we cannot understand how a critic of his 
unquestioned ability could quote with ridicule some of the very 
finest lines of Kubla Khan, and expect his readers to concur with 
his opinion. The lack of taste was more apparent because he 
quoted, with qualified praise, six lines of no extraordinary merit 
from Christabel and insisted, that with this one exception, there 
was not a couplet in the whole poem that achieved the standard of 
a newspaper poetry-corner or the eflFusions scratched by peri- 
patetic bards on inn-windows. An interesting discussion be- 
tween Mr. Thomas Hutchinson and Col. Prideaux concerning 
Hazlitt's responsibility for this and other critiques on Coleridge 
in the Edinburgh Review will be found in Notes and Queries 
(Ninth Series), X, pp. 388, 429; XI, 170, 269. 

The other reviews of Christabel were all unfavorable. Most 
extravagant was the utterance of the Monthly Magazine, XL VI, 
p. 407, in 1818, when it declared that the " poem of Christabel is 
only fit for the inmates of Bedlam. We are not acquainted in the 
history of literature with so great an insult offered to the public 
understanding as the publication of that r[h]apsody of delirium." 

Hazlitt's primitive remarks on the metre of Christabel are of 
little interest. Coleridge was, of course, wrong in stating that 
his metre was founded on a new principle. The irregularly 
four-stressed line occurs in Spenser's Shepherd's Calender and 
can be' traced back through the halting tetrameters of Skelton. 
Coleridge himself alludes to this fact in his note to his poem 
The Raven, and elsewhere. 



2o6 NOTES 

Coleridge's earlier poetical publications were received with com- 
monplace critiques usually mildly favorable. For reviews of his 
Poems (1796) see Monthly Rev., XX, n. s., p. 194; Analytical 
Rev., XXllI, p. 610; British Critic, VII, p. 549; and Critical 
Rev., XVII, n. s., p. 209; the second edition of Poems (i797) is 
noticed in Critical Rev., XXIII, n. s., p. 266; for Lyrical Ballads, 
see under Wordsworth; for the successful play Remorse (1813), 
see Monthly Rev., LXXI, n. s., p. 82, and Quarterly Rev., XI, 
p. 177. 

Robert Southey 

Madoc, a ponderous quarto of over five hundred pages and 
issued at two guineas, was published by Southey in 1805 as the 
second of that long-forgotten series of interminable epics includ- 
ing Thalaba, The Curse of Kehama, and Roderick, Last of the 
Goths. These huge unformed productions were not poems, but 
metrical tales, written in a kind of verse that could have flowed 
indefinitely from the author's pen. In short, Southey was not a 
poet, and the whole bulk of his efforts in verse, with but one or 
two exceptions, seems destined to oblivion. As poet-laureate for 
thirty years and the associate of Wordsworth and Coleridge in the 
" Lake School," Southey will, however, remain a figure of some 
importance in the history of English poetr}^ 

The review of Madoc reprinted from the Monthly Rev., XLVIII 
( 1 13-122) for October, 1805, was written in the old style then 
fast giving way to the sprightlier methods of the Edinburgh. 
Here we find a style abounding in literary allusions and classical 
quotations, and evincing a generally patronizing attitude toward 
the author under discussion. Most readers will agree with the 
sentiments expressed by the reviewer, who succeeded in making 
his article interesting without descending to the depths of 
buffoonery. No apology is necessary for the excision of the re- 
viewer's unreasonably long extracts from the poem. Madoc was 
also reviewed at great length in the Edinburgh Reviczv by Francis 
Jeffrey. 
6r. Ille ego, qui quondam, etc. The lines usually prefixed to the 

Aineid. 
61. Prorumpere in inedias res. Cf. Horace, Ars Poetica. I. T48. 
6r. Macklin's Tragedy. Henry VII (1746), his only tragedy, and 

a failure. 
61. Toto carcrc possum. Cf. ^Martial, Epig. XI, 56. 



NOTES 207 

61. Camocns. The author of the Portuguese Lj/j/arf (1572) which 

narrates the adventures of Vasco da Gama. 

62. Milton. Quoted from Sonnet XL — On the Detraction which 

followed upon my writing certain Treatises. 

63. Snatching a grace, etc. Pope's Essay on Criticism, 1. 153. 

Charles Lamb 

Most of Lamb's earlier poetical productions appeared in con- 
junction with the work of other poets. Four of his sonnets were 
printed with Coleridge's Poems on Various Subjects (1796), and 
he was more fully represented in Poems by S. T. Coleridge. 
Second Edition. To which are nozv added Poems by Charles 
Lamb and Charles Lloyd (1797). In the following year appeared 
Blank Verse, by Charles Lloyd and Charles Lamb. For new and 
interesting material concerning the three poets, see E. V. Lucas' 
Charles Lamb and the Lloyds (1899). Lloyd (1775-1839) wrote 
melancholy verses and a sentimental, epistolary novel Edmund 
Oliver, but nothing of permanent value. However, in 1798, he was 
almost as well known as Coleridge, and was hailed in some 
quarters as a promising poet. 

The Monthly Rev., XXVH, n. s. (104-105), in September, 1798, 
published the critique of Blank Verse which is here reprinted. 
Its principal interest lies in the scant attention shown to Lamb, 
although the volume contained his best poem — the tender Old 
Familiar Faces. Dr. Johnson's characterization of blank-verse 
as " poetry to the eye " will be found at the end of his Life of 
Milton as a quotation from " an ingenious critic." 

Lamb's drama, John JVoodvil (1802), written in imitation of 
later Elizabethan models, was a failure. It was unfavorably 
noticed in the Monthly Rev., XL, n. s., p. 442 and at greater length 
in the Edinbiirgli Rev., II, p. 90 ff. 

Many years later (1830) Lamb prepared his collection of 
Album-Verses at the request of his friend Edward Moxon, who 
had achieved some fame as a poet and was enabled (by the gen- 
erous aid of Samuel Rogers) to begin his more lucrative career 
as a publisher. Three years after the appearance of Album- 
Verses, he married Lamb's adopted daughter, Emma Tsola. The 
Album-Verses, like most of their kind, were a collection of small 
value; the Literary Gazette, 1830 (441-442), consequently lost no 
time in assailing them. The Athenaum, 1830, p. 435, at that 



2o8 NOTES 

lime the bitter rival of the Gazette, published a more favorable 
review, and a few weeks later (p. 491) printed Southey's verses, 
To Charles Lamb, on the Reviewal of his Album-Verses in the 
Literary Gazette, together with a sharp commentary on the 
methods of the Gazette. Several times during that year the 
Athenaum assailed the system of private puffery which was fol- 
lowed by the Gazette and eventually caused its downfall. There 
is a reply to the Athenceuni m the Literary Gazette, 1833, P- 77^- 

Walter Savage Landor 

Landor was twenty-three when he published Gcbir anonymously 
in 1798 — the year of the Lyrical Ballads — and he lived until 1864. 
The nine decades of his life covered an important period of 
literature. He was nine years old when the great Johnson died, 
yet he lived to see the best poetic achievements of Tennyson, 
Browning, and Arnold. However, he did not live to see Gebir 
a popular poem. Southey gave it a favorable welcome in the 
Critical Rcviczv, and became a life-long admirer of Landor; but 
our brief notices reprinted from the Monthly Rev., XXXI, n. s., 
p. 206, and British Critic, XV, p. 190 of February, 1800, represent 
more nearly the popular verdict. Both reviewers complain of the 
obscurity of the poem, which, it will be remembered, had been 
originally written in Latin, then translated and abridged. Not- 
withstanding the fact that Landor declared himself amply repaid 
by the praise of a few appreciative readers, he prepared a violent 
and scornful reply to the Monthly Review, and would have pub- 
lished it but for the sensible dissuasion of a friend. Some in- 
teresting extracts from the letter are printed in Forster's Life 
of Landor, pp. (76-85). He protested especially against the im- 
puted plagiarisms from Milton and gave ample evidence of the 
pugnacious spirit that brought him into difficulties several times 
during his life. See also the Imaginary Conversation between 
Archdeacon Hare and Walter Landor, wherein the reception of 
Gcbir is discussed and Southey's poetry is praised at the expense 
of Wordsworth's. Lander's first publication, the Poems (1795) 
was noticed in the Monthly Rev., XXI, n. s., p. 253. 

Sir Walter Scott 

The successful series of metrical tales which Scott inaugurated 
with the Lay of the Last Minstrel (1805) had for its second 



NOTES 209 

member the more elaborate Mannion (1808). From the first, 
Scott's poems and romances were favorably received by the re- 
views and usually noticed at great length. There was always a 
story to outline and choice passages to quote. As suggested in 
the Preface, these pagans of praise are of comparatively little 
interest to the student, and need hardly be cited here in detail. 

The critique of Marmion, written by Jeffrey for the Edinburgh 
Rev., XII (1-35), had the place of honor in the number for 
April, 1S08. It was chosen for the present reprints partly as a 
fitting example of Jeffrey's fearlessness in expressing his opinions, 
and partly for its historic interest as the article that contributed 
to Scott's rupture with the Edinburghers and to his successful 
founding of a Tory rival in the Quarterly Revieiv. Although the 
article has here been abridged to about half of its original length 
by the omission of six hundred quoted lines and a synopsis of the 
poem, it is still the longest of these reprints. Jeffrey evidently 
felt that a detailed account of the story was necessary in order to 
justify his strictures on the plot. 

An author of those days could afford to ignore the decisions of 
the critical monthlies, but the brilliant criticism and incisive dic- 
tion of the Edinburgh Review carried weight and exerted far- 
reaching influence. Jeffrey's article w-as practically the only 
dissonant note in the chorus of praise that greeted Marmion, and 
Scott probably resented the critic's attitude. Lockhart, in his 
admirable chapter on the publication of Marmion, admits that 
" Jeffrey acquitted himself on this occasion in a manner highly 
creditable to his courageous sense of duty." The April number 
of the Edinburgh appeared shortly before a particular day on 
which Jeffrey had engaged to dine with Scott. Fearing that 
under the circumstances he might be an unw^elcome guest, he sent 
the following tactful note with the copy which was forwarded 
to the poet : — 

" Dear Scott, — If I did not give you credit for more mag- 
nanimity than any other of your irritable tribe, I should scarcely 
venture to put this into your hands. As it is, I do it with no 
little solicitude, and earnestly hope that it will make no difference 
in the friendship which has hitherto subsisted between us. I 
have spoken of your poem exactly as I think, and though I cannot 
reasonably suppose that you will be pleased with everything I 
have said, it would mortify me very severely to believe I had 

17 



2IO NOTES 

given you pain. If you have any amity left for me, you will not 
delay very long to tell me so. In the meantime, I am very 
sincerely yours, F. Jeffrey." 

There was but one course open to Scott; accordingly to Lock- 
hart, " he assured Mr. Jeffrey that the article had not disturbed 
his digestion, though he hoped neither his booksellers nor the 
public would agree with the opinions it expressed, and begged he 
would come to dinner at the hour previously appointed. Mr. 
Jeffrey appeared accordingly, and was received by his host with 
the frankest cordiality, but had the mortification to observe that 
the mistress of the house, though perfectly polite, was not quite 
so easy with him as usual. She, too, behaved herself with ex- 
emplary civility during the dinner, but could not help saying, in 
her broken English, when her guest was departing, ' Well, good 
night, Mr. Jeffrey. Dey tell me you have abused Scott in de 
Review, and I hope Mr. Constable has paid you very well for 
writing it.' " 

Jeffrey's article apparently had little influence on the sale of 
Marmion, which reached eight editions (25,000 copies) in three 
years. In October, 1808, the Edinburgh Reviezu published an 
appreciative review of Scott's edition of Dryden, and afterwards 
received with favor the later poems and the principal Waverley 
Novels. 

78. Mr. Thomas Inkle. The story of Inkle and Yarico was re- 
lated by Steele in no. 11 of the Spectator. It was afterwards 
dramatized (1787) by George Colman. 

Lord Byron 

The twentieth number of the Edinburgh Review contained 
Jeffrey's long article on Wordsworth's Poems (1807) ; the twenty- 
second contained his review of Scott's Marmion; and the twenty- 
first (January, 1808) contained a still more famous critique, long 
attributed to Jeffrey — the review of Byron's Hours of Idleness 
(1807). It is reprinted from Edinburgh Rev., XI (285-289) in 
Stevenson's Early Reviews and forms Appendix II of R. E. 
Prothero's edition of Byron's Letters and Journals. We know 
definitely that the article was written by Henry Brougham. (See 
Prothero, op. cit., II, p. 397, and Sir M. E. Grant Duff's Notes 
from a Diary, II, p. 189.) 



NOTES 2 1 1 

It is hardly within ihc province of htcrary criticism to deal 
with hypothetical conditions in authors' lives; but it is at least a 
matter of some interest to conjecture whether Byron would have 
become a great poet if this stinging review had not been pub- 
lished. It is evident that the Hours of Idleness gave few signs 
of promise, and the poet, fully intent upon a political career, 
himself expressed his intention of abandoning the muse. Many 
an educated Englishman has published such a volume of Juvenilia 
and sinned no more. But a nature like Byron's could not over- 
look the effrontery of the Edinburgh Review. The proud- 
spirited poet was evidently far more incensed by the patronizing 
tone of the article than by its strictures : what could be more 
galling than the reiterated references to the " noble minor," or the 
withering contempt that characterized a particular poem as " the 
thing in page 79"? Many years later, Byron wrote to Shelley: — 
" I recollect the effect on me of the Edinburgh on my first poem; 
it was rage, and resistance, and redress — but not despondency nor 
despair." (Prothero, V, p. 267.) 

There was method in Byron's " rage and resistance and redress." 
For more than a year he labored upon a satire which he had 
begun even before the appearance of the Edinburgh article. (See 
letter of October 26, 1807, in Letters, ed. Prothero, I, p. 147.) In 
the spring of 1809, English Bards and Scotch Rcvieivers was 
given anonymously to the world. The publication of this vigor- 
ous satire virtually decided Byron's career. Not only did he 
abuse Jeffrey, whom he believed responsible for the offending 
critique, but he flung defiance in the face of almost all his literary 
contemporaries. The authorship of the satire was soon apparent, 
and in a flippant note to the second edition, Byron became still 
more abusive toward Jeffrey and his " dirty pack," and declared 
that he was ready to give satisfaction to all who sought it. A 
few years later he regretted his rashness in assailing the authors 
of his time. He also learned of the injustice done to Jeffrey and 
had ample reason to feel embarrassed by the tone of the eight 
reviews of his poems that Jeffrey did write for the Edinburgh. 
(See the list in Prothero, II, p. 248.) In Don Juan (canto X, 
xvi), he made the following retraction: — 

"And all our little feuds, at least all mine, 
Dear Jeffrey, once my most redoubted foe 
(As far as rhyme and criticism combine 
To make such puppets of us things below), 



212 NOTES 

Are over. Here's a health to ' Auld Lang Syne !' 

I do not know you, and may never know 
Your face — but you have acted, on the whole, 
Most nobly; and I own it from my soul." 

The other reviews of Hours of Idleness are of little interest. 
The Monthly and the Critical both praised the book ; the Literary 
Panorama, III, p. 27s, said the author was no imbecile, but an 
incautious writer. 
98. OrTiO leyeiv, — Anacreon, Ode I. {Oe^u Tisytiv 'ArpeiSa^, k. t. ?..) 
gS. fitaui'vuTioig, nod' opaiq. — Anacreon, Ode III. {fieaowKTioii no6' 
(jpaic, li. T. ^. ) 
IOC. Sancho, — Sancho Panza in Don Quixote. The proverb is 
of ancient origin. See French, Latin, Italian and Spanish 
forms in Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. 

CJiildc Harold 

Shortly after the appearance of the second edition of English 
Bards and Scotch Reviewers, Byron left England and travelled 
through the East, at the same time leisurely composing the first 
two cantos of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Their publication in 
1812 placed him at the head of the popular poets of the day. 
Henceforth the reviews gave extensive notices to all his pro- 
ductions. (For references, see J. P. Anderson's bibliography 
appended to Hon. Roden Noel's Life of Byron.) Childe Harold 
was reviewed in the Edinburgh Rev., XIX (466-477), by Jeffrey; 
in the Quarterly, VII (180-200), by George Ellis; in the British 
Revie'iV, III (275-302) ; and Eclectic Reviezv, XV (630-641). 

The article here reprinted from the Christian Observer, XI 
(376-386), of June, 1812, is of special interest as an early protest 
from conservative, religious circles against the immoral and 
irreverent tone of Byron's poetry. As literary criticism, it is 
almost worthless, in spite of the elaborate allusions and quota- 
tions with which the critic — evidently a survivor of the old school 
— has interlarded his remarks. Little can be said in defense of an 
article which insists that the chief end of poetry is to be agreeably 
didactic and which (in 1812) cites Southey as the greatest of 
living poets. However, it probably represents the attitude of a 
large number of worthy people of the time, who recognized that 
Byron had genius, and wished to see him exercise his powers 



NOTES 213 

with due regard for the proprieties of civihzed life. As Byron's 
ofifences grew more flagrant in his later poems, the criticisms in 
the conservative reviews became more vehement. For Byron's 
controversy with the British Review, which he facetiously 
dubbed " my grandmother's review " in Don Juan, see Prothero, 
IV, pp. (346-347), and Appendix VII. The ninth Appendix to 
the same volume is Byron's caustic reply to the brutal review of 
Don Juan in Blackzi'ood's Magazine, V, p. 512 fif. 
loi. Lion of the north, Francis Jeffrey. The usual agnomen of 

Gustavus Adolphus. Cf. Walter Scott, the " Wizard of 

the North." 

105. Faicry Queen will not often be read through. Hume's His- 

tory of England, Appendix III. 

106. Qui, quid sit pulchrum, etc. Horace, Epis. II (3-4). 

106. Rursum — quid virtus, etc. Horace, Epis. II (17-18). 

107. Our sage serious St^cnser, etc. Milton's Areopagitica, 

Works, ed. Mitford, IV, p. 412. 
107. Quinctilian. See Quintilian, Book XII, Chap. I. 

107. Longinus. On the Sublime, IX, XIII, etc. 

108. Restoration of Learning in the East. A Cambridge prize 

poem (1805) by Charles Grant, Lord Glenelg (1778-1866). 

109. Thersites. See Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida. 
109. Caliban. See Shakespeare's The Tempest. 

log. Heraclitus. The "weeping philosopher" (circa 500 B. C). 
109. Zeno. The founder (342-270 B. C.) of the Stoic School. 
109. Zoiltis. The ancient grammarian who assailed the works of 

Homer. The epithet Homeromastix is sometimes applied 

to him^. 
113. The philosophic Tully, etc. See the concluding paragraph 

of Cicero's De Senectute. 

Percy Bysshe Shelley 

It is doubtful whether any other poet was so widely and so 
continuously assailed in the reviews as Shelley. Circumstances 
have made certain critiques on Byron, Keats, and others more 
widely known, but nowhere else do we find the persistent stream 
of abuse that followed in the wake of Shelley's publications. The 
Blackzvood articles were usually most scathing, and those of the 
Literary Gazette were not far behind. Fortunately, the poet spent 
most of his time in Italy and thus remained in ignorance of the 



2 14 NOTES 

great majority of these spiteful attacks in the less important 
periodicals. 

Alastor, which appeared in 1816, attracted comparatively little 
attention. The tone of the brief notice reprinted from the 
Monthly Rev., LXXIX, n. s., p. 433, shows that the poet was as 
yet unknown to the critics. Blackwood's Magazine, VI (148- 
154), gave a longer and, on the whole, more favorable account of 
the poem. In the same year, Leigh Hunt published his Story of 
Rimini, most noteworthy for its graceful rhythmical structure in 
the unrestricted couplets of Chaucer. This departure from the 
polished heroics of Pope, which were ill-adapted to narrative 
subjects in spite of his successful translation of Homer, was 
hailed with delight by the younger poets. Shelley imitated the 
measure in his Julian and Maddalo, and Keats did likewise 
in Lamia and Endymion. Hunt was soon recognized by the 
critics as the leader of a group of liberals whom they con- 
veniently classified as the Cockney School. Shelley's ill-treatment 
at the hands of the reviewers dates from his association with this 
coterie. His Revolt of Islam (1818) was assailed by John Taylor 
Coleridge in the Quarterly Reviezv, XXI (460-471). The Cenci 
was condemned as a horrible literary monstrosity by the scandal- 
ized critics of the Monthly Rev., XCIV, n. s. (161-168) ; the 
Literary Gazette, 1820 (209-10) ; and the Netv Monthly Maga- 
zine, XIII (550-553). The review here reprinted from the Lon- 
don Mag., I (401-405), is comparatively mild in its censure. 

One would naturally suppose that the death of Keats would 
have ensured at least a respectful consideration for Shelley's 
lament, Adonais (1821) ; but the callous critics were by no means 
abashed. The outrageous article in the Literary Gazette of 
December 8, 1821, pp. {772-^72,), is one of the unpardonable 
errors of literary criticism ; but it sinks into insignificance beside 
the brutal, unquotable review which Blackwood's Magazine per- 
mitted to appear in its pages. In the same year Shelley's youthful 
poetical indiscretion, Queen Mab, which he himself called " vil- 
lainous trash," was published under circumstances beyond his 
control, and forthwith the readers of the Literary Gazette were 
regaled with ten columns of foul abuse from the pen of a critic 
who declared that he was driven almost speechless by the senti- 
ments expressed in the poem. Well could the heartless reviewer 
of Adonais write : — " If criticism killed the disciples of that [the 



NOTES 215 

Cockney] school, Shelley would not have been alive to write an 
elegy on another." 

115. Eye in a fine plirency rolling. Shakespeare's Midsummer- 
Night's Dream, V, i, 12. 

115. Above this visible diurnal sphere. Milton's Paradise Lost, 

Book VII, 22. 

116. Pared quod satis est manu. Horace, Odes, III, 16, 24. 

116. Lord Fanny. A nickname bestowed upon Lord Hervey, an 

effeminate noble of the time of George II. 

117. O! rus, quando ego tc aspiciam. Horace, Satires, II, 6, 60. 

117. Mordecai. See Book of Esther, V, 13. 

118. Last of the Romans. Mark Antony in Shakespeare's Julius 

Caesar, III, 2, 194. 
120. Full fathom five. Shakespeare's The Tempest, I, 2, 396. 
126. Ohe! jam satis est. Horace, Satires, I, 5, 12-13. 
126. Tristram Shandy. The excommunication is in vol. Ill, chap. 

XI. 
133. Put a girdle, etc. See Shakespeare's M idsummer-Nigh t's 

Dream, II, i, 175. 

John Keats 

The history of English poetry offers no more interesting case 
between poet and critic than that of John Keats. The imputed 
influence of a savage critique in hastening the death of the poet 
has given the Quarterly Review an unenviable notoriety which 
clings in spite of the efforts of scholars to establish the truth. 
To many students, Keats, Endymion, and Quarterly are prac- 
tically connotative terms ; and this is a direct result of the 
righteous but misguided indignation of Shelley — misguided be- 
cause his information was incomplete and the more guilty party 
escaped, thus inflicting upon the Quarterly the brunt of the oppro- 
brium of which far more than half should be accredited to 
Blackzvood's Magazine. 

Endymion was published in April, 1818. One of the pub- 
lishers (Taylor and Hessey) requested Gifford, then editor of the 
Quarterly Review, to treat the poem with indulgence. This in- 
discreet move probably actuated Gifford to provide a severe criti- 
que ; at any rate, in the belated April number of the Quarterly, 
XIX (204-208), which was not issued until September, appeared 
the famous review. A persistent error, which has crept into W. 



2i6 NOTES 

M. Rossetti's Life of Keats, into Anderson's bibliography, and 
even into the article on Gifford in the Dictionary of National 
Biography, attributes this article to Gifford himself; but it is 
known to be the work of John Wilson Croker. (See the article 
on Croker in Diet. Nat. Biog. From the article on John Murray 
{ibid.) we learn that Gifford was not wholly responsible for a 
single article in the Quarterly.) 

Meanwhile, Blackzvood's Magazine, III (519-524) had made 
Endymion the text of its fourth infamous tirade against the 
Cockney School of Poetry. The signature " Z " was appended tp 
all the articles, but the critic's identity has not yet been discovered. 
Leigh Hunt thought it was Walter Scott, Haydon suspected the 
actor Terry, but it is more probable that the honor belongs to 
John Gibson Lockhart. One account attributes the entire series 
to Lockhart ; another attributes the series to Wilson, but holds 
Lockhart responsible for the Endymion article. Mr. Andrew 
Lang, in his Life and Letters of Lockliart, dismissed the matter by 
saying that he did not know who wrote the article. 

The Quarterly critique was reprinted in Stevenson's Early Re- 
views, in Rossetti's Life of Keats, in Buxton Forman's edition of 
Keats' Poetical Works (Appendix V) and elsewhere. From a 
critical point of view, it is, as Forman terms it, a " curiously un- 
important production." The student will at once question its 
power to cause distress in the mind of the poet ; as for malignant 
severity, there are several reviews among the present reprints that 
put the brief Quarterly article to shame. When we turn to what 
Swinburne calls the " obscener insolence " of the Blackwood 
article, we find an unrestrained torrent of abuse against both Hunt 
and Keats that amply justified Landor's subsequent allusions to 
the Blackguard's Magazine. The Quarterly critique was captious 
and ill-tempered ; but the Blackwood article was a personal insult. 

It is impossible to consider in detail the vexed question of the 
influence which these reviews had upon Keats. In Mr. W. M. 
Rossetti's Life of Keats, pp. (83-106) there is a full discussion 
of the evidence on the subject. Within a few months after the 
appearance of the articles, Keats wrote : — " Praise or blame has 
but a momentary effect on the man whose love of beauty in the 
abstract makes him a severe critic of his own works. My own 
domestic criticism has given me pain without comparison beyond 
what Blackwood or The Quarterly could possibly inflict." Some 
weeks later he wrote that the Quarterly article had only served to 



NOTES 2 1 7 

make him more prominent among bookmen. After some time 
he expressed himself less confidently and deprecated the growing 
power of the reviews, but there is no evidence that he fretted over 
the critiques. Maydon tells us that Keats was morbid and silent 
for hours at a time; but it is quite likely that the consciousness of 
his physical affliction — hereditary consumption — was oppressing 
his mind. His death occurred on February 23, 1821 — about two 
and a half years after the appearance of the Endymion critiques. 
Shelley had gone to Italy before the reviews were published. 
He heard of the Quarterly article, but knew nothing of Black- 
zcood's while w-riting Adonais; hence in both poem and preface, 
the former review is charged with having caused Keats' death. 
Shelley declared that Keats' agitation over the review ended in 
the rupture of a blood vessel in the lungs with an ensuing rapid 
consumption. These statements, which Shelley must have had 
indirectly, have not been substantiated. We are forced to the 
conclusion now generally accepted — that Keats, although sensi- 
tive to personal ridicule, was superior to the stings of re- 
view criticism and that the distressing events of the last year of 
his life were sufficient to assure the early triumph of the inherent 
and unconquerable disease. 

141. Miss Baillie. Joanna BailHe (1762-1851) authoress of 

numerous forgotten plays and poems which enjoyed great 
popularity in their day. 

142. Land of Cockaigne. Here means London, and refers speci- 

fically to the Cockney poets. An old French poem on the 
Land of Cockaigne described it as an ideal land of luxury 
and ease. The best authorities do not accept Cockney as 
a derivative form. The Cockney School was composed of 
Londoners of the middle-class, supposedly ill-bred and im- 
perfectly educated. The critics took special delight in 
dwelling upon the humble origin of the Cockneys, their 
lack of university training, and especially their dependence 
on translations for their knowledge of the classics. 

142. When Leigh Hunt left prison. Hunt had been imprisoned 
for libel on the Prince Regent (1812). 

146. Vauxhall. The Gardens were a favorite resort for Lon- 
doners early in the eighteenth century and remained popu- 
lar for a long time. See Thackeray's Vanity Fair (chap. 
VI). The implication in the present passage is that the 
Cockney poet gets his ideas of nature from the immediate 
vicinity of London. 



2i8 NOTES 

147. East of Temple-bar. That is, living in the City of London. 
150. Young Sangrado. An allusion to Doctor Sangrado, in Le 
Sage's Gil Bias (1715). 

Alfred Lord Tennyson 

Tennyson's first poetical efforts, which appeared in Poems by 
Two Brothers (1827) attracted little critical attention. His 
prize-poem, Timbiictoo (1829) received the interesting notice here 
reprinted from the Athenccum (p. 456) of July 22, 1829. Tim- 
buctoo was printed in the Cambridge Chronicle (July 10, 1829) ; 
in the Prolusiones Academica (1829) ; and several times in 
Cambridge Priae-Poems. The use of heroic metre in prize-poems 
was traditional ; hence the award was an enviable tribute to the 
blank-verse of Timbiictoo. 

Tennyson's success was emphasized by the remarkable series of 
reviews that greeted his earliest volumes of poems. The Poems, 
chiefly Lyrical (1830) were welcomed by Sir John Bowring in 
the Westminster Rcviczc, by Leigh Hunt in the Tatler, by Arthur 
Hallam in the Englishman's Magazine, and by John Wilson in 
Blackwood's Magazine. The Poems (1833) were reviewed by 
W. J. Fox in the Monthly Repository, and by John Stuart Mill 
in the Westminster Review. This array of names was indeed a' 
tribute to the poet ; but the unfavorable review, was, as usual, 
most significant. The article written by Lockhart for the Quar- 
terly Rev., XLIX (81-97), has been characterized as "silly and 
brutal," but it was neither. Tennyson's fame is secure; we can 
at least be just to his early reviewer. It is true that the poet 
winced under the lash and that ten years elapsed before his next 
volume of collected poems appeared ; but Canon Ainger is surely 
in error when he holds the Quarterly Review mainly responsible 
for this long silence. The rich measure of praise elsewhere be- 
stowed upon the volume would leave us no alternative but the 
conclusion that Tennyson was childish enough to maintain his 
silence for a decade because Lockhart took liberties with his 
poems instead of joining the chorus of adulation. We know 
that there were other and stronger reasons for Tennyson's 
silence and we also know that the effect of Lockhart's article was 
decidedly salutary. When the next collection of Poems (1842) 
did appear, the shorter pieces ridiculed by Lockhart were omitted, 
and the derided passages in the longer poems were altered. 



NOTES 219 

We may, without conscientious scruples, take Mr. Andrew 
Lang's advice, and enjoy a laugh over Lockhart's performance. Its 
mock appreciations are, perhaps, far-fetched at times; but there are 
enough effective passages to give zest to the article. It has been 
said in all seriousness that Lockhart failed to appreciate the beauty 
of most of Tennyson's lines, and that he confined his remarks to 
the most assailable passages. Surely, when a critic undertakes to 
write a mock-appreciation, he will not quote the best verses, to the 
detriment of his plan. The poet must see to it that his volume 
does not contain enough absurdities to form a sufficient basis for 
such an article. There is a striking contrast to the humor of 
Lockhart in the little-known review of the same volume by the 
Literary Gazette, 1833, pp. {772-774). The latter seized upon 
some crudities that had escaped the Quarterly's notice, and, with 
characteristic brutality, decided that the poet was insane and 
needed a low diet and a cell. 

Although the reception accorded to Poems (1842) was generally 
favorable, the publication of The Princess in 1847 afforded the 
critics another opportunity to lament Tennyson's inequalities. 
The spirit of the review of The Princess here reprinted from the 
Literary Gazette of August 8, 1848, is practically identical wnth 
that of the Athencciim on January 6, 1848, but specifies more 
clearly the critic's objections to the medley. It is noteworthy 
that Lord Tennyson made extensive changes in subsequent edi- 
tions of The Princess, but left unaltered all of the passages to 
which the Literary Gazette took exception. The beautiful 
threnody In Memoriam (1850) and Tennyson's elevation to the 
laureateship in the same year established his position as the lead- 
ing poet of the time; but the appearance of Maud in 1856 
proved to be a temporary check to his popularity. A few per- 
sonal friends admired it and praised its fine lyrics ; but as a 
dramatic narrative it failed to please the reviews. The most 
interesting of the critiques (unfortunately too long to be re- 
printed here) appeared in Blackzuood's Magazine, XLI (311-321), 
of September, 1855, — a forcible, well-written article, which, in- 
cidentally, shows how much the magazine had improved in re- 
spectability since the days of the lampooners of Byron, Shelley, 
and Keats. The authorship of the article has not been disclosed, 
but we know that W. E. Aytoun asked permission of the pro- 
prietor to review Tennyson's Maud. (See Mrs. Oliphant's 
William Blackzvood and his Sons.) The publication of the Idylls 



220 NOTES 

of the King (1859), turned the tide more strongly than before 

in Tennyson's favor, and subsequent fault-finding on the part of 

the critics was confined largely to his dramas. 

153. Catullus. See Catullus, II and III — {Passer, delicia mccs 
puellcc, and Lugete, O Veneres Cupidinesque) . 

153. 'Ei.dE 7iv(iij, K. T. A. Usually found in the remains of Alcaeus. 
Thomas Moore translates it with his Odes of Anacreoii 
(LXXVII), beginning " Would that I were a tuneful lyre," 
etc. Lockhart proceeds to ridicule Tennyson for wishing to 
be a river, which is not what the quoted lines state. Nor 
does Tennyson " ambition a bolder metamorphosis " than 
his predecessors. Anacreon (Ode XXII) wishes to be a 
stream, as well as a mirror, a robe, a pair of sandals and 
sundry other articles. See Moore's interesting note. 

155. Noil omnis moriar. Horace, Odes, III, 30, 6. 

156. Tongues in trees, etc. Shakespeare's As Yoii Like It, II, 

I, 17. 

157. Aristccus. A minor Grecian divinity, worshipped as the first 

to introduce the culture of bees. 

164. Dionysius Periegetes. Author of TTEpn/yTicic TTjq yijq, a descrip- 
tion of the earth in hexameters, usually published with the 
scholia of Eustathius and the Latin paraphrases of Avienus 
and Priscian. For the account of /Ethiopia, see also 
Pausanias, I, 2>i< 4. 

167. The Rovers. The Rovers was a parody on the German 
drama of the day, published in the Anti-Jacobin (1798) 
and written by Frere, Canning and others. It is reprinted 
in Charles Edmund's Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin. The 
chorus of conspirators is at the end of Act IV. 

169. The Groves of Blarney. An old Irish song. A version may 

be seen in the Antiquary, I, p. 199. The quotation by 
Lockhart differs somewhat from the corresponding stanza 
of the cited version. 

170. Corporal Trim. In Sterne's Tristram Shandy. 

173. Christopher North. John Wilson, of Blackzvood's Magazine. 

Robert Browning 

The reviews of Browning's poems are singularly uninteresting 

from a historical standpoint. There is usually a protest against 

the obscurity of the poetry and a plea that the author should 

make better use of his manifest genius. For details concerning 



NOTES 22 1 

these reviews, see the bibliography of Browning in Nicoll and 
Wise's Literary Anecdotes of the Nineteenth Century. The list 
there given is extensive, but does not include several of the re- 
views mentioned below. 

The early poems were so abstruse that the critics were unable 
to make sport of them as they did in the case of Wordsworth, 
Byron, Tennyson, and the rest ; and when Browning finally 
deigned to write within range of the average human intellect, that 
particular style of reviewing had lost favor. His earliest publica- 
tion, Pauline (1832) was well received by W. J. Fox in Monthly 
Repository, and in the Athenccum. Tail's Edinburgh Magazine 
called it a " piece of pure bewilderment." See also the brief 
notice in the Literary Gazette. 1833, P- 183. Paracelsus (1835) 
had a similar experience; the reprint from the Athenccum, 183S, 
p. 640, is fairly characteristic of the rest, among which are the 
articles in the Monthly Repository, 1835, p. 716; the Christian 
Remembrancer, XX, p. 346, and the reviews written by John 
Forster for the Examiner, 1835, p. 563, and the New Monthly 
Magazine, XLVI (289-308). 

Neither the favorable review of Sordello (1840) in the 
Monthly Rev., 1840, II, p. 149, nor the partly appreciative article 
in the Athenccum, 1840, p. 431, seems to warrant the well-known 
anecdotes relating the difficulties of Douglas Jerrold and Tenny- 
son in attempting to understand that poem. The Athenccum gave 
the poet sound advice, especially in regard to the intentional 
obscurity of his meaning. That this admonition was futile 
may be gathered from the Saturday Reziezi.''s article (I, p. 69) 
on Men and JVomen (1855) published fifteen years after Sordello. 
The critic reverted to the earlier style, and produced one of the 
most readable reviews of Browning. Whatever may be the final 
verdict yet to be passed upon Browning's poetic achievement, the 
fact remains that the contemporary reviews from first to last de- 
plored in his work a deliberate obscurity which was wholly un- 
warranted and which precluded the universal appeal that is 
essential to a poet's greatness. 

189. Delia Crusca of SentimentaUsm. Robert Merry (1755-1798) 
under the name Delia Crusca became the leader of a set 
of poetasters who flourished during the poetic dearth at the 
end of the eighteenth century and poured forth their 
rubbish until William GiflFord exposed their follies in his 
satires The Baviad (1794) and The Mccviad (1795). 



2 22 NOTES 

189. Alexander Smith. A Scotch poet (1830-1867). 

189. Mystic of Bailey. Philip James Bailey (1816-1902), best 
known as the author of Festus, published The Mystic in 
1855. 

192. Hudibras Btitlcr, etc. Samuel Butler, author of Hudibras 
(1663-7S) ; Richard H. Barham, author of the Ingoldsby 
Legends (1840) ; and Thomas Hood, author of IVhims 
and Oddities (1826-27). These poets are cited by the re- 
viewer for their skill with unusual metres and difficult 
rhymes. 



INDEX 



Academy, xlii-xliii 

Account of English Dramatic 

Foets, XV 
Adonais, by Shelley, reviewed, 

129-134 ; 214, 217 
Advice to Young Reviewer, xxiii 
Ainsworth, Harrison, xlv 
Akenside, Mark, xvi 
Alastor, by Shelley, reviewed, 115 
Album I'erses, by Lamb, review- 
ed, 66-67 
Alford. Dean, xxxv 
Allingham, William, 1 
All the Year Round, 1 
Analytical Rcviezv. xxii 
Anti-Jacobin Reviezi\ xxiii 
Appleton, Dr. Charles, xlii 
Arber, Prof. Edward, xiii 
Arnold, Matthew, xxxii, xxxvi, 

xlii 
Athentrum, xxxviii-xl, liv ; on 

Tennyson's Timbuctoo, 151 ; 

on Browning's Paracelsus, 

187 
Athenian Mercury, xiv 
Atlas, xl 
Austin, Mr. Alfred, xxxvi 

Bagehot, Walter, xxxii, xxxiv 
Barrow, Sir John, xxviii 
Battle of the Rez'iezi's, xx-xxi 
Bayle, Pierre, xiii 
Bee. xvi 

Behn, Mrs. Aphra, xv 
Beloe, William, xxiii 
Rentham, Jeremy, xxxi 
Bcullcy's Miscellany. 1 
Bibliography, Ivi-lix 
Bibliotheca Literaria, xvi 
Bibliothbque Ancienne et Mod- 
erne, xvi 
Bibliothdque Angloise, xv 
Bibliothcque Choisce, xvi 

223 



Blackwood, John, xlvii 
Blackwood, William, xlv 
Blackwood's Magazine, xlv-xlvii ; 

on Keats' Endymion, 141- 

150 ; 216 
Blank Verse, by Lamb and Lloyd, 

reviewed, 65 
Blount, Sir Thomas Pope, xiv 
Bookman, xxxvii 
Bower, Archibald, xvi 
British and Boreign Review, xxxii 
British Critic, xxiii ; on Landor's 

Gebir, 68 
British Librarian, xvi 
British Magazine, xxii, xlv 
British Rcviezv, xxxii, 213 
Brougham, Henry, xxiv, xxvi- 

xxvii, XXX, 210 
Browning, Robert, Paracelsus 

rev. in Athencrum, 187 ; Sor- 

dcllo rev. in Monthly Rev., 

188 ; Men and Women rev. 

in Saturday Rev., 189-196 ; 

Buckingham. James Silk, xxxviii 
Budgell, Eustace, xvi 
Bulwer, Edward, xxx, xlv 
Bunting, Mr. Percy, xxxvi 
Burns, Robert, Poems rev. in 
Edinburgh Mag., 13-14; in 
Critical Rev., 15 ; 199-200 
Byron, Lord, 47, 48 ; Hours of 
Idleness rev. in Edinburgh 
Rev., 94-100; Childe Harold 
rev. in Christian Observer, 
101-114 ; 210-213 

Campbell, Thomas, xlv 
Carlyle, Thomas, xxx, xlv, xlix 
Cave, Edward, xliv 
Cenci, by Shelley, reviewed, 116- 

128, 214 
Ccnsura Cclcbrium Aufhorum, xiv 



224 



INDEX 



Censiira Temporum, xv 

Childe Harold, by Byron, review- 
ed, 101-114; 212-213 

Christabel, by Coleridge, review- 
ed, 47-59 

Christian Observer, xxxiii ; on 
Byron's Childe Harold, loi- 

114 
Christian Remembrancer, xxxii 
Christie, Jonathan Henry, xlviii 
Cleghorn, James, xlvi 
Cobbett, William, xxxvii 
Cockney School, 'Blackwood's 

Mag. on, 141-150 ; 216-217 
Colburn, Henry, xxxvii, xlv 
Coleridge, John Taylor, xxix 
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, xlvi ; 
Christabel rev. in Edinburgh 
Rev., 47-59 ; 201-202, 204- 
206 
Collins, Mr. John Churton, li 
Colvin, Mr. Sidney, xlii, liv 
Compleat Library, xiv 
Conder, Josiah, xxxii 
Contemporary Review, xxxv 
Cook, John D., xli 
Copleston, Edward, xxiii 
Coruhill Maga;:ine. 1 
Cotton, Mr. James S., xliii 
Courthope, Mr. W. J., xxxvi 
Courtney, Mr. W. L., xxxv 
Cowper, William, Poems rev. in 
Critical Rev., 10-12; 198-199 
Critic, xxxvii 

Critical Review, xviii-xxi. xxiii, 
XXV, xxxiii ; on Goldsmith's 
Traveller, 5-9 ; on Cowper's 
Poems, 10-12; on Burn's 
Poems, 15 ; on Lyrical Bal- 
lads, 20-23 
Croker, John Wilson, xxviii 

Dennis, John, xv 
DeQuincey, Thomas, xlviii 
De Re Poetica, xiv 
Descriptive Sketches, by Words- 
worth, reviewed, 16-18 
Dickens, Charles, 1, liv 
Dilke, Charles W., xxxix 
Dixon, William H., xxxix 
Doble, Mr. C. E., xliii 



Dowden, Prof. Edward, xxxiv 
Dublin Review, xxxii 
Dublin University Magazine, 1 
D'Urfey, Thomas, xv 

Eclectic Review, xxxii 

Edinburgh Magazine, xliv ; on 
Burns' Poems, 13-14 

Edinburgh Review, xxiv-xxvii, 
xxix-xxxi, xlvi, liv ; on 
Wordsworth's Poems, 24-46 ; 
on Coleridge's Christabel, 
47-59 ; on Scott's Marmion, 
70-93 ; on Byron's Hours of 
Idleness, 94-100; 209-211 

Eliot, George, xxxiv, xlvii 

Elliott, Hon. A. R. D., xxxi 

Elwin, Whitwell, xxix 

Empson, William, xxx 

Endymion, by Keats, rev. in Quar- 
terly Rev., 135-140; rev. in 
Blackwood's Mag., 141-150; 
215-218 

English Revieiv, xxii, xxxii 

Escott, Mr. T. H. S., xxxv 

Evening Walk, by Wordsworth, 
reviewed, 19 

Examiner, xxxvii 

Fonblanque, Albany, xxxvii 
Foreign Quarterly Review, xxxii 
Foreign Review, xxxii 
Forster, John, xxxvii 
Fortnightly Reviezv, xxxiii-xxxv 
Fox, W. J., xxxiii 
Eraser's Magazine, xlix-1 
Froude, James A., 1 

Gebir, by Landor, rev. in British 

Critic, 68 ; rev. in Monthly 

Rev., 69 ; 208 
Gentleman's Journal, xv, xliv 
Gentleman's Magazine, xv, xliv 
Gifford, William, xxvii, xxviii 
Goldsmith, Oliver, xviii, xxi, 

xxii, xlv; The Traveller rev. 

in Critical Rev., 5-9, 197, 

198 
Grant, Charles, 108 
Gray, Thomas, Odes rev. in 

Monthly Rev., 1-4; 197-19S 



INDEX 



225 



Green, John Richards, xxiii 
Grifliths, Ralph, xvii, xviii, xx 

Hallam, Henry, xxx 

Hamilton, Sir William, xxx 

Harris, Mr. Frank, xxxv, xli 

Harwood, Mr. Philip, xli 

Hazlitt, William, 204-205 

Hervey, Thomas K., xxxix 

Hind, Mr. C. Lewis, xliii 

Historia Literaria, xvi 

History of Learning, xiv 

History of the VVorks of the 
Learned, xv, xvi 

Hodge, Mr. Harold, xli 

Hood, Thomas, xlviii 

Hook, Theodore, xlv 

Home, Richard Hengist, xxxiii 

Horner, Francis, xxiv, xxv 

Hours of Idleness, by Byron, re- 
viewed, 94-100; 210-212 

Household Words, 1 

Hume, David, 105 

Hunt, Leigh, xxxiii, xxxvii, 135, 
136, 142 

Hutton, Richard Holt, xxxii, xl 

Introduction, xiii-lv 

Jebb, Samuel, xvi 

Jeffrey, Francis, xxiv-xxvi, xxix, 

xlviii, 203, 206, 209-210 
Jerdan, William, xxxvii, xxxix 
Johnson, Samuel, xxi, xxii, 198 
Journal des Savans, xiii, xiv, xxi 

Keats, John, Endymion, reviewed 
in Quarterly Rev., 135-140 ; 
in Blackwood's Mag., 141- 
150 ; 152, 215-218 

Kenrick, William, xx, xxi, xxii 

Kingsley, Charles, 1 

Knowles, Mr. James, xxxv, xxxvi 

Lamb, Charles, xlviii : Blank 
Verse rev. in Monthly Rev., 
65 ; Album-Verses rev. in 
Literary Gazette. 66-67 ; 
207-208 

Landor, Walter Savage, Gebir 
rev. in British Critic, 68 ; 
in Monthly Rev., 69 ; 208 

18 



Langbaine, Gerald, xv 
Le Clerc, Daniel, xvi 
Le Clerc, Jean, xiv, xvi 
Lewes, George Henry, xxxiv 
Lewis, Sir George Cornewall, xxx 
Literary Chronicle, xxxviii 
Literary Gazette, xxxvii-xxxix ; 
on Lamb's Album-Verses, 
66-67 ; on Shelley's Adonais, 
129-134; on Tennyson's The 
Princess, 176-186; 207-208 
Literary Journal, xvi 
Literary Magazine, xvi, xxii 
Lloyd, Charles, Blank Verse, rev. 

in Monthly Rev., 65 
Lloyd, H. E., xxxvii 
Lockhart, John Gibson, xxii, 

xxxi, 216, 218-219 
London Magazine, xliv, xlvii- 
xlviii ; on Shelley's Cenci, 
116-128 
London Quarterly Review, xxxii 
London Review, xxii, xxxi 
Longman's Magazine, 1 
Lowth, Bishop, xvi 
Lyrical Ballads, by Wordsworth, 
reviewed, 20-23 '> 201-203 

Macaulay, Thomas Babington, 

xxix-xxx 
MacColl, Mr. Norman, xxxix 
Maclise. Daniel, xlix 
Miicmillan's Magazine, 1 
Macpherson, William, xxix 
Madoc, by Southey, reviewed, 

60-64 ; 206-207 
Marmion, by Scott, reviewed, 

70-93 ; 208-210 
Martin, Sir Theodore, 1 
Martineau. James, xxxii 
Maty, Paul Henry, xxii 
Maurice, Frederick D., xxxviii 
Maxse, Mr. Louis J., xxxvi 
Melbourne, Lord, xxx 
Memoirs for the Ingenious, xiv 
Memoirs of Literature, xv 
Mcmoires Litteraires, xv 
Men and Women, by Browning. 

reviewed 189-196, 221 
Mercurius Librarins. xiii 
Meredith, Mr. George, xxxiv 



226 



INDEX 



Metropolitan, 1 

Mill, John Stuart, xxx, xxxi 

Minto, William, xxxvii 

Miscellaneous Letters, xiv 

Monthly Censor, xxxiii 

Monthly Chronicle, xxxiii 

Monthly Magazine, xlv 

Monthly Miscellany, xv 

Monthly Repository, xxxiii 

Monthly Reviezc, xvii-xxi, xxv, 
xxxiii ; on Gray's Odes, 1-4 ; 
on Wordsworth's Descrip- 
tive Sketches, 16-18; on 
Wordsworth's Evening Walk, 
19 ; on Southey's Madoc, 
60-64 ; on Lamb's Blank 
Verse, 65 ; on Landor's 
Gebir, 69 ; on Shelley's 
Alastor, 115; on Browning's 
Sordello, i88 

Moore, Thomas, xlviii 

Morley, Mr. John, xxxiv 

Motteux, Peter Anthony, xv, xliv 

Moxon, Edward, 207 

Murray, John, xxvii 

Museum, xvi 

Napier, Macvey, xxix 
Nares, Robert, xxxiii 
National Reviezv (quar.), xxxii ; 

(mon.). xxxvi 
New Memoirs of Literature, xvi 
Nezi' Monthly Magazine, xxxvii, 

xlv 
New Review, xxii 
Nicolas, Sir N. H., xxxii 
Nineteenth Century, xxxvi 
North British Reviezv, xxxii 
Nonvelles de la Republique des 

Lcttres, xiii 

Oldys, William, xvi 

Oliphant, Mrs. M. O. W., xlvii 

Paracelsus, by Browning, re- 
viewed, 187 
Parkes, Samuel, xiv 
Pater, Walter, xlii, xliii 
Phillips, Sir Richard, xlv 
Phillips, Mr. Stephen, liv 
Pollock, Mr. W. H., xli 



Porcupine's Gazette, xxxvii 

Pratt, Josiah, xxxiii 

Present State of the Republic of 

Letters, xvi 
Princess, by Tennyson, reviewed, 

176-186 
Pringle, Thomas, xlvi 
Prothero, Mr. George, xxix 
Prothero, Mr. Rowland, xxix 

Quarterly Review, xxvii-xxix, 
liv ; on Keats' Endymion, 
135-140; on Tennyson's 
Poems, 152-175 ; 215-217 

Quarterly Theological Reviezv, 
xxiii 

Quintilian, 107 

Reeve, Henry, xxx 
Reid, Andrew, xvi 
Rendall, Mr. Vernon, xxxix 
Retrospective Reviezv, xxxii 
Revue des Deux Mondes, xxxiii 
Ridpath, George, xv 
Rintoul, Robert S., xl 
Roche, M. de la, xv, xvi 
Roscoe, Mr. E. S., xxxi 
Roscoe, William C., xxxii 
Ross, Miss, xxxvii 
Royal Magazine, xliv 
Russell, Lord John, xxx 

Salisbury, Lord, xli 

Sallo, Denis de, xiii 

Saturday Reviezv, xli, liv ; on 

Browning's Men and Wo- 

vien, 189-196 
Scots Magazine, xlLv 
Scott, John, xlvii 
Scott, Sir Walter, xxvii ; Mar- 

mion rev. in Edinburgh Rev., 

70-93 ; 208-210 
Shelley, Percy Bysshe, Alastor 

rev. in Monthly Rev., 115; 

Cenci rev. in London Mag., 

116-128; Adonais rev. in 

Literary Gazette, 129-134, 

213-21S 
Shore, Mr. W. Teignmouth, xliii 
Smith, Sydney, xxiv, xxvi 
Smith, Sir William, xxix 



INDEX 



227 



Smollett, Tobias xviii, xx, xlv 
Sordt'llo, by Browning, reviewed, 

188 
Southern, Henry, xxxi, xxxii 
Southey, Robert, xxviii ; Madoc 
rev. in Monthly Rev., 60- 
64; 109, 202, 206-207 
Spectator, xl-xli 
Stebbing, Henry, xxxviii 
Stephen, (Sir) Leslie, xxxiv 
Sterling, John, xxxviii 
Strachcy, Mr. J. St. L., xl 
Swinburne, Mr. A. C, xxxiv, liv 
Synionds, J. A., xxxiv 
SyiTions, Mr. Arthur, liv 

Tail's Edinburgh Magazine, 1 

Taylor, William, xlv 

Temple Bar, 1 

Tennyson, Alfred, (Lord), xxxvi ; 
Timbuctoo rev. in Athenceiim, 
151 ; Poems rev. in Quarterly 
Rev., 152-175 ; The Princess 
rev. in Literary Gazette, 
176-186 ; 218-220 

Thackeray, W. M., xxx, xlix, 1 

Thcafrum Poctarum. xv 

Timbuctoo. by Tennyson, review- 
ed, 151 



Townsend, Meredith, xl 
Traveller, by Goldsmith, review- 
ed, 5-9 

Universal Historical Biblioth^que, 

xiv 
Universal Magazine, xliv 
Universal Mercury, xiv 

Walpole, Horace, xvi, xx 

Warton, J. and T., xvi 

Watkins, Dr., xlv 

Watts, Alaric A., xlv, xlviii 

Weekly Memorial, xiv 

Weekly Register, xxxvii 

Westminster Review, xxxi-xxxii 

\\'ilson, John, xlvi 

Wordsworth, William, Descrip- 
tive Sketches rev. in Monthly 
Rev., 16-18; Evening Walk 
rev. in ibid., 19; Lyrical 
Ballads rev. in Critical Rev., 
20-23 ; Poems rev. in Edin- 
burgh Rev., 24-46 ; 200-204 

Works of the Learned, xiv 

Young Student's Library, xiv 







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